


But We Found Each Other in the Dark

by LaFemmeDarla



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 35,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFemmeDarla/pseuds/LaFemmeDarla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. In the end, the Free Marches don’t live up to their name. Fenris’ stay in Kirkwall is shorter than he expected and he ends up in Ferelden, where a chance encounter in the forest leaves him injured and in the company of Morrigan and her young son. Despite conflicting views on magic and power, they find some common ground and form an alliance that will involve grey wardens, more mages and questions about what it truly means to be free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 Dragon Age Big Bang. A big thanks to Prozacpark for the inspiration and my Donut for suggestions and encourament. And many tahnks to Fragilespark and riais/Trina for the wonderful art!

He knows it is a trap from the very beginning. The odds of the chest containing anything that will bring him closer to learn more about himself are dim at best. But how can he just walk away? 

So he "persuades" Anzo to help, gets him to hire people to serve as a distraction. And when the dust has settled and Fenris learns that the chest had been empty after all, he asks these people he barely knows to help him face Danarius. He is wary of hiring strangers, even when he has the coin - years on the run have taught him to trust no one. But this is the first time he has had an advantage and he is damn well going to take it. The fact that this very small group of people held her own against the imperial bounty hunters and is willing to help after his deception gives Fenris something akin to hope.

Until they are inside the mansion searching for Danarius and one of them - a girl with long black hair - uses magic to fight the shades and rage demons that suddenly appear.

How foolish, Fenris thinks as he stands between the mage's back and a rage demon, his blade slicing the creature in half. Even in this place he cannot escape the company of mages. But there are more important things at stake and he has to stay focused. He needs their help. Finding Danarius is all that matters.

Unfortunately, luck is not on his side this time. By the time they are done purging the mansion of monsters it is clear that Danarius has long fled and all Fenris has for his efforts are an empty house and some valuables, which he offers to the group’s leader, Hawke. It could have ended there, but Fenris cannot keep the bitterness off his voice as he later comments on Hawke's company. Oh, the irony of having a mage helping him take down another mage is not lost in him, but having been so close to something - his past, Danarius' demise, anything that would make him feel like a truly free man - he finds himself tired and frustrated. His comments of course are not received kindly.

But when all is said and done, he knows he couldn't have made this without them and is truly grateful for their help. He goes as far as to give Hawke all the coin he had left. He then surprises himself by offering more than just coin.

“Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it,” he says.

He has been on the run for three years. But this is the first time he has given Danarius pause. And now Fenris has his former master's mansion at his disposal. Surely he can stay a little longer and plan his next move, perhaps even be await the next attack here.

Everyone turns to Hawke. Clearly they are leaving the decision to her. She looks at him.

“Are you going to have a problem with my companions?”

“I will watch them carefully if we travel together,” he replies. “I can promise no more.”

This is as far as he is willing to compromise. Hawke seems to consider this, but then she turns to look at the young mage - in the dim light he can see a mild resemblance between the two of them. Relatives perhaps? - and finally shakes her head.

“I think it’s time for us to part ways,” she says. Her words are polite, but her tone is understandably cold. 

Suddenly staying in this place for long doesn't sound as appealing.

"Banavis fedar,” he says with a nod and adds before walking away “May the ground rise to meet your feet."

* * *

Fenris finds the cleanest bed in the mansion - or rather, the one with the bedding not ripped apart or covered by bloodstains - and settles in for the night, planning to make his way out of the city tomorrow. Or at least he tries to settle in. It's not that the bed is unconfortable - he's had worse - but even after taking down every single bounty hunter and creature sent after him, sleep won't come easy to him. Sometimes this is a welcome event - no sleep means no nightmares. But tonight he is tired and hoping that the physycal exertion brings him a little rest. It doesn't.

Finally, he gets out of bed, gathers his meager belongings and leaves the mansion for good.

* * *

He wanders the streets of Kirkwall, keeping to the shadows and looking over his shoulder every few steps. He does not expect another attack from Danarius' men. Not tonight at least. But the streets of the city are still filled with danger and while Fenris is not afraid of thieves looking for easy prety, he'd rather not draw attention to himself. He soon finds himself in Lowtown. No matter where he goes, each city has its own lowtown and they are all the same in his eyes: alienages he'd rather not think about, derelict buildings, dark alleys, taverns filled with the sound of loud customers even as dawn approaches. He walks by one of such stablishments and cannot help thinking how much he would welcome a drink, but he has given all his coin away and even if he hadn't, he is not sure he wants the company of others right now.

The door of the tavern opens and Fenris moves quickly out of sight, standing between a barrel and the wall. Not the best hiding place, but as long as whoever is coming out doesn't look too much into the shadows, it will do. Three men step out of the tavern and into the night, their voices slightly slurred and their steps hesitant. Two of them speak in harsh tones, clearly unhappy about having to set sail in just a few hours. 

"Be grateful," the third man says. "Have you seen all the refugees out and about? At least we got a way to put food on the table."

The tallest man scoffs. "Some way it is. There are better routes than Ferelden and you know it, Jobar."

"If you think you can find work on another ship go ahead," Jobar says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides, the Blight is over. Plenty of people going back. There is coin on this route."

The response is too low for Fenris to hear, but he is not interested in it. A ship is leaving soon and me has made up his mind to leave in it. When the men walk away Fenris follows them from a distance. It is no hard to sneak in once they reach their destination. This particular ship is anchored at the very end of the docks and the area is still deserted enough for Fenris to slip in as Jobar and the others are too busy awaiting orders and trying not to vomit all over their boots.

Safely hidden behind some cargo, Fenris closes his eyes and once again tries to get some rest. Sleep comes eventually, brief, restless and haunted.

* * *

 

The trip is fast and uneventful. Soon Fenris hears men shouting orders and getting ready for their arrival. Now as they approach the coast of Amaranthine, he has to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. It is however too late to regret his choice now. 

In the end, the Free Marches didn’t live up to their name. Maybe it will be different somewhere else.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris has no intention of staying in Ferelden for long though. Any country foolish enough to give the Circle of Magi its independence is just as bad as Minrathous for him. Ferelden is just another temporary stop, far away from Minrathous. And the more distance, the better. At least until he can finally confront his former master once and for all.

Despite recent darkspawn attacks and a country impoverished by the Blight, the city of Amaranthine seems to be rebuilding itself quite fast. Trade is flowing and even refugees that had sought refuge in the Free Marches are tempting fate by returning to their homeland. Unfortunately, Fenris tends to stick out, especially among the refugees. The guards are extra vigilant as well and so Fenris is only able to steal a couple of things - a piece of bread, an apple that falls from a cart. Even if he could get a hold of some coin, the city is too full for him to even consider renting a room at the inn. There is a small campsite near the gates where refugees are given food, medicine and a place to stay for the night. He steers clears of it as well. The alienage is of course not even an option. 

He leaves the city as soon as he can, heading for Denerim, hoping he can stick out less in a larger city. He tries to stay clear of the main roads and away from other travelers. He finds an empty barn to spend the night and the next morning he breaks his fast by picking up fruit from nearby trees. Fenris has known many people in Tevinter who would scoff at the simplicity of his meal and sleeping arrangements, but he treasures them. 

Though as much as he likes apples, after his fifth one he has realized oranges and other fruits may be the one thing he misses about Tevinter.

 

* * *

He has been on the road for a few hours when he hears people approaching. It could be bandits. Or it could be a group of merchants... who would be hostile towards a heavily armed elf. With a groan, Fenris heads for the woods to avoid being seen. He tries not to stray too far from the path, but he can still hear their voices so he tries to put as much distance as possible between himself and this unwanted company. The forests of Ferelden are cold and dense, a stark contrast to the jungles of Seheron. He follows a stream for what it feels like hours, eventually settling down to eat his last remaining apple and splash cool water on his face, enjoying the rare moment of peace and quiet. It doesn't last long. 

Low guttural growls can be heard a short distance away. Fenris has only run into darkspawn twice during his journey - stragglers near entrances to the Deep Roads - and he's quickly on his feet. His first instinct is to run in the opposite direction. The last thing he needs is trouble. Then he hears a child’s cries and he runs deep into the forest following the noises. He rushes into a clearing, sword in hand. There is a woman standing on top of a large rock, surrounded by darkspawn. Her right hand is closed into a fist; her left holds a bundle tight against her chest and Fenris can see a tiny arm come out of the bundle and cling to the woman. He does not hesitate as he runs towards the darkspawn and triggers the Lyrium in his body.

He takes two down with one swing. A third manages to step back, avoiding Fenris' blade and then running forward. Fenris sidesteps and raises his sword, bringing it down just as the darkspawn runs past him. The sword cuts through flesh and bone with satisfying ease. A growl warns Fenris there is another one approaching. He pulls his sword off the dead darkspawn and moves towards his attacker. It is slightly larger than the ones he's taken down. Stronger and more skilled with the sword too. As their blades meet, Fenris risks a quick glance behind the creature. He has counted at least ten of them and he needs to draw them away from the woman and child as fast as he can. The tall darkspawn lunges forward, giving Fenris enough of an opening to sink his blade into its chest. But this one is resilient and manages get Fenris' left arm before falling. 

Fenris looks down at the blood pouring out of a large gash. It's not a deep wound, but he knows darkspawn blood is dangerous; a poison to avoid at all costs. He has been fast enough to avoid their blood on him so far. But there are still six of them out there and there is no time to think about this when there are lives at stake...

Something roars in agony behind him. He turns just in time to see some of the darkspawn on fire, writhing in pain as the flames engulf them. He looks towards the rock, where the woman is now holding her right hand in front of her, palm open and a diminishing flame floating on it.

A witch.

He should have known. How foolish of him to believe he was protecting a helpless woman and her child!

She looks at him and her mouth opens, but Fenris doesn’t get to hear her. He turns just in time for a large mace to crash against his skull. The sound is almost deafening and the impact sends him crashing to the ground. Blood clouds his vision but he can make out the dark shape of the darkspawn raising his mace for the final blow, only to drop it and roar as an unseen force raises the creature from the ground and off Fenris’ visual field. Then there’s no more noise. Fenris closes his eyes and takes a painful breath.

He forces himself to open his eyes again, his vision blurring slightly when he turns his head, looking for the witch. He can see a black and purple shape get off the rock and move away. She stops a few seconds later, then eventually starts moving again, but this time towards him. By the time she’s kneeling in front of him, he can make out her features - golden eyes and full lips twisted in a sneer. Her free hand moves towards him and he doesn’t feel like stopping her - or maybe he just hurts too much to try. When her fingers come back into view, they’re covered in blood.

“Hum,” it’s all she says. Or at least it’s all he hears before everything goes black.

 

* * *

By the time he regains consciousness, the moon is high on the sky. He is lying on his back, his left arm is bandaged and he can feel something cool and sweet smelling pressed against his face. A fire crackles a few feet away from him. He sits up slowly and winces when the simple move makes his head hurt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” someone says behind him and he turns hastily to see the woman - the witch - walking towards him. Pain and nausea blossom when he does so and he hisses. 

“What did you do to me, Witch?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“I healed you. And you are welcome by the way.” 

She holds out a small vial and offers it to him - a healing potion. Fenris takes it without a word and drinks it in one gulp. The nausea and pain diminish a little. “Why?”

She shrugs. “You were helpful and apparently I picked some bad habits from past traveling companions.” She kneels in front of him and stares at the side of his face. “If you cannot stay still at least do try to keep that poultice in place.” She gets up and walks towards a small tent sent a few feet away to pick up the little bundle. Fenris gets a better view now: two chubby arms and one round head covered with black hair. 

“Is the child alright?” he asks. “He wasn’t harmed on the attack, I mean.”

She looks mildly surprised at the question, but nods. “He is fine.” 

When she unlaces her shirt - if one could that a shirt - and starts feeding the child, Fenris looks way. He frowns at the unknown surroundings.

“This is not where the darkspawn attacked. How did you move me?”

“I turned into a bear and dragged you here. We couldn't stay in that uncomfortable part of the woods surrounded by darkspawn, could we?”

She sounds rather smug at this and Fenris scoffs. “Of course you did. I’d rather you don’t use your magic in me.”

The amusement in her voice is quickly replaced by contempt. “My magic killed the darkspawn that attacked you and healed your wounds when I could have just as easily used you as a distraction and left you to die.”

He looks away, biting down a curse word. “I am not… ungrateful for your aid. But I know all about the tyranny mages are capable of. “

He looks down at his bare hands, at the lyrium markings running along his fingers and on his arms. Or rather, his right arm, the left bandaged from wrist to elbow.

Bare arms… bare chest. “Where are my things?”

“There,” she points to a side of the tent. His gauntlets, shirt, chest piece and sword are neatly placed on top on a rock. “I was not planning to steal them if that is what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t suggest anything of the sort,” he says hastily. He is not about to admit how the thought crossed his mind. He tries to keep his voice as calm as possible when he speaks next. “May I have them back?”

“After going out of your way to belittle my magic and act as if I am a danger to you?”

“Oh, so you are stealing them then?”

“Don’t be foolish,” she says as she covers herself and lays the child back on the bedroll. “You may have them back as soon as you recover. I’d rather sleep tonight knowing you don’t have a blade at your disposal after those words of yours.”

“I could just go and pick it up.”

She is smiling again. “With those injuries? My, I would love to see you try.”

 

* * *

He does try when the witch falls asleep. But moving proves a chore and he has the suspicion that she is feigning sleep and waiting for him to attempt something. With a frustrated grown he lies down, staring at the stars above him. It has been so long since he last took the time to just look at the sky. He remembers a particular night, when someone took the time to lie close to him and point out the constellations, happily answering any questions Fenris had on the subject.

He had been one of the first people Fenris killed when Danarius had given the order.

Fenris closes his eyes and rests his good arm across them. He starts going through the mental list of the many things he will do to Danarius once they are face to face. Eventually he gives in to exhaustion and blood loss once again. His dreams are filled with the cries of the Fog Warriors.


	3. Chapter 3

The smell of fish wakes him up. He does his best not to grimace when the Witch offers him breakfast. He needs to gain his strength back and given the choice between starvation and recovery, he chooses to eat the despised food and briefly wonders if she turned into a bear and caught some fish while he slept. 

He sleeps most of the day. The few times he’s awake he sees the witch keeping herself busy with the babe, reading from a large tome or mixing herbs. Some of these mixes she uses to replace the poultice on Fenris’ head. She is a bit rough when she checks his injuries and he suspects she is still mad about their last conversation. They barely exchange any words.

By night the silence becomes too much, even for him. Fenris asks the first thing that comes to mind.

“What is the child’s name?”

She looks up from the sleeping babe and smiles. “His name is Urthemiel.”

The name rings uncomfortably familiar. “That is... an unusual name."

“You could say it's a family name.” She cocks her head to the side. “May I know your name?”

“Fenris.”

She nods. “Fenris. You may call me Morrigan.”

They don’t speak more for the rest of the night, but the tension seems diminished somehow after this simple attempt at courtesy.

She still won’t give him his things back though.

 

* * *

The second day passes just as the first - eating fish, sleeping and speaking very little. On the third day Morrigan removes poultice and bandages and declares him fully healed.

“I may not have my mother’s healing skills, but this will do," Morrigan says as she examines his arm. "You should consider yourself fortunate. If you have gotten any darkspawn blood on those wounds we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Fenris is only slightly uncomfortable as she examines him, but if she is interested in the markings, she doesn’t say anything. Still, it is a relief when she finally walks away. She then returns, carrying his gauntlets and chest piece. Fenris accepts them with a nod and examines them. He will have to clean them up thoroughly today to remove all traces of darkspawn blood.

“The sword you will have to get yourself,” she says before heading back to her bedroll and picking up her child. He stands up and his first steps are hesitant, but he’s walking normally by the time he reaches his weapon.

She speaks again as he bends to pick up the sword. “There is a road about a mile from here. It should take you to Denerim. I feel I don’t have to tell you to avoid the alienage. The one in the city is particularly bad.”

“You are not going to to Denerim?” Fenris asks.

“I am heading a different way,” she replies. Fenris looks from her to the babe. He has dark hair, just like his mother, but his eyes are hazel. He looks at Fenris curiously while sucking on his tiny fist. So small and helpless.

“Then I am coming with you,” Fenris finally says as he puts his sword on his back.

She frowns. “And why would you do such a thing?”

“You saved my life and I will owe no debts to witches. I will see you safely to the next town and consider my debt paid.”

“You will not. I have made no plans to go to any town in particular.”

“Where are you headed then?”

She gestures around. “I am waiting for someone that should be coming through the forest in the upcoming weeks.”

“Then I will stay with you until they arrive.”

She starts saying something but is interrupted by the cries of the child. “Fine. Have it your way. You can start by helping me with the tent."

Helping means Fenris does all the work while Morrigan watches. At least when she distributes the weight of her things between the two of them is only just slightly in her favor. She justifies it by pointing at the child sleeping on a sling across her chest.

Fenris sights. This is going to be one long journey.

 

* * *

Fenris expects many difficulties along the way. The forest may provide safety from his enemies, but it houses different predators. Making his way with a woman and child seems like more trouble.

Morrigan proves him wrong soon enough. She clearly knows her way around these woods, she can tell the difference between poisoned berries and mushrooms and edible ones, and every night she guides them into a clearing or a cave dry enough to spend the night. They find no more darkspawn, but there are other things to fight - wolves and bears that Fenris slices through with joy - it means fresh meat to eat instead of just nuts and berries and fish - and there is plenty of fish to be had whenever they camp near a stream. It is Morrigan who suggests taking the skins so they’ll have something to barter with later on. She tries to take the knife and teach Fenris how to do it, but he rejects her help. He has done this before. In Seheron.

Removing the flesh and working on the hides take time and he’s grateful for that. The busier he is, the less he has to think about what he did back then. He focuses on the task at hand while keeping an eye on Morrigan and the child.

Her son has been a pleasant surprise as well. Fenris has had very little contact with children and he always thinks of them as fastidious and loud. This child is surprisingly well behaved, crying only when he requires nourishment or cleaning. The rest of the time he either sleeps or is easily amused by Morrigan.

And for all his mistrust, he cannot deny that Morrigan has been a doting mother, keeping her child well fed, warm and dry. It feels wrong. A lifetime of slavery - at least, for as long as he can remember - has taught him that mages cannot be trusted. And this woman is an apostate, a mage living outside the law. Someone who is constantly on the run - and yet chose to stay and tend his wounds after the darkspawn attack.

He touches his arm. There is no pain and no scar to remind him of what happened. And even without a mirror, he knows his face has healed just as well.

"Is your arm bothering you?" Morrigan says. He looks up and finds her staring at him. She almost looks concerned about his well being.

He shakes his head. "Nothing to be worried about." Perhaps he is wrong about this particular mage.

"Good," she says with a smile as she walks away. "It would be rather inconvenient if we were attacked in the middle of the night and you were in no condition to defend us."

Or perhaps he isn't.


	4. Chapter 4

“I’ve heard that the Circle in this country is run by the mages,” he says one evening after supper.

Morrigan has just put the child to sleep. She seems annoyed at his comment. “’Twas a boon granted to the Hero of Ferelden. She grew up there and has a sentimental attachment to the place and the people in it.”

“An attachment you don’t share.”

“Why should I care for a prison and those foolish enough to willingly submit themselves to it?”

“It is not a prison. It’s a place where mages can be supervised and be taught how to control their powers.”

“If I was a mage of the Circle I could not come and go as I pleased. There would be armed Templars watching my every move. Sounds like a prison to me.”

“You would be safe,” he insists. “And others would be kept safe from you.”

“Is that so?” Morrigan says. “You think I would be better off inside the Fereldan circle? The place where a year ago abominations ran rampant and slaughtered templars and fellow mages alike?”

Fenris doesn’t answer and Morrigan looks away, seemingly focused on the campfire.

“During the Blight, I traveled with the Hero of Ferelden," she says eventually. “She told me about her friends in the circle. How she loved her lessons. How the First Enchanter himself taught her many of the things she knows and considered her his favorite pupil. She also told me how her earliest memory was being taken from her bed in the dead of night by Templars as her mother cried and begged them to stop. She was only six, an innocent child. Even I find that an unnecessary cruelty.”

Fenris stares into the flames, saying nothing. Morrigan continues. “She lives in Amaranthine now. She was named Warden Commander and also rules the city. And from what I’ve heard she has rarely returned to the circle. Once she tasted freedom she simply couldn't imagine returning to that life."

Fenris nods. “That is a feeling I am familiar with.”

“You know about loosing your freedom then.”

“I was a slave in Tevinter.” It is the first time he has brought up his past to Morrigan.

“And that is where you got those markings,” she says. It is not a question. “Lyrium. Having it run through your body like this is unheard of. Such a procedure should have killed you.” She looks at Fenris as if she’s expecting him to drop dead from lyrium poisoning at any moment. Fenris looks down at his hands. He had removed his gauntlets to eat and the markings running along his fingers and arms are perfectly visible, both an useful part of his escape and a painful reminder of everything he has gone through.

He closes his hands into tight fists. “My former master had it burned into my flesh, in a ritual I remember only for the agony it caused me."

“I find it amazing that you are so quick to condemn me to a form of slavery after your own experiences.”

“I do not have to fear seeking power through magic. Mages do.”

“There is nothing like true power,” Morrigan says. “And true, many will abuse it. But you don’t need magic to do so.”

“It helps.”

“And yet you continue to travel with me. Tell me something, Fenris; do you expect me to turn into an abomination anytime now?”

He thinks about the answer. When he first met her he would have said yes without thinking. But now…

“It’s… a possibility for any mage,” he finally says. “You do seem very interested in having power.”¨

He risks a glance in her direction. There is a certain tension around her eyes and mouth. But she speaks, her tone is even and calm.

“When you’ve seen the things I’ve seen and known the things I’ve known, power is not only appealing, but necessary.”

A few steps away from them, the child stirs in the bedroll for a few seconds before returning to a peaceful slumber. Morrigan watches the sleeping face thoughtfully. “Blood magic may be something to behold. But I would never resort to anything that would require me to strike a deal with a demon.” 

He has seen Urthemiel smile and coo as she tends to him. He has seen Morrigan be gentle and soothing when it comes to her son. It is enough to stop her from losing herself to temptation?

After a few minutes, she gestures towards his hands. “May I…?”

He is taken aback at first. Other than her healing him when they first met, she has avoided any physical contact - something Fenris is grateful for. He eventually holds out one hand and she moves closer.

She doesn’t touch him this time either. Her hands hover near, following the silvery lines from his fingertips to his elbows. The rest are covered and he really hopes she doesn’t ask him to show them to her.

“Fascinating,” she whispers. “Did your former master draw power from them when he needed to?”

"Whenever he wanted to. I was Danarius' bodyguard. But as a slave, I was bound to fulfill any duties he demanded of me."

He looks away, trying hard not to think of what the most horrible duties involved.

“And yet here you are now,” she says. “A man who defied his master and has traveled thousands of miles to be free.”

Fenris doesn’t feel like a truly free man, but he nods, risking a glance in her direction. Morrigan seems impressed and he cannot help feeling a little smug. 

"And for how long do you intend to run?"

"Sorry?"

"You are not planning to run away from the rest of your life, are you? Such a waste."

"And what would you suggest?" He tries to keep his voice calm. "Sit back and wait for Danarius to catch up with me?"

"Find this Danarius and kill him, break the chains once and for all. If that is what takes to make you feel free that is."

He yanks his hand away, feeling suddenly very bare. "You expect me to go back to Tevinter, where I'd be easy prey for any magister for the lyrium alone, break into Danarius' heavily protected mansion and take him down with one strike?" He scoffs. "Don't you think that if it was that easy, I would have done it years ago?"

"You asked for a suggestion and I gave it," Morrigan says. "You look down on me from refusing to live by rules that would deprive me of my freedom while you are constantly on the run from the man who slaved you. I choose to live free. Why can’t you do the same?”

He shakes his head. "It is not the same."

"Perhaps. But you cannot deny there is a measure of truth in it. Killing this man will not make everything right, but it’s a start."

There is no smugness in her voice. No sense of superiority. Somehow that makes it worse. Fenris gets up, sword in hand and decides to patrol the area, make sure there are no threats lurking by. Nevermind that he did the exact same thing just before they ate.

"Fenris?" she calls out just as he's made it to the end of their camp. He doesn't turn around.

"Yes?"

"If.... if something went horribly wrong and I was... not myself, would you slay me?"

This makes him turn. She still sits by the fire, her back to him.

"I would," he says. His voice is tired and resigned and just thinking about it brings an unexpected weight to his chest.

"Thank you," she says, almost too low for him to hear.


	5. Chapter 5

They avoid talking about that night. Fenris is willing to admit to himself that they both had valid points. But that is as far as he will go. 

They continue their journey across the forest, walking most of the day and setting camp at night. Their conversations are harmless now: simple topics like favorite foods, the distance between the forest and any villages, how to kill as darkspawn as quickly as possible and the weather - mostly Fenris complaining about the cold. His armor and clothing are strong enough to protect him during a fight and light enough for the hot and dry climate of Tevinter. Morrigan offers to take him to Soldier's Peak so he can see snow and know what is like to be truly cold. He hopes she is speaking in jest.

Fortunately, their journey takes them nowhere near snowy peaks. In fact, other than the occasional wild animal their days are pretty uneventful until the morning they come across the Dalish camp. 

“What have we here?” Morrigan says with a wide grin and Fenris understands - this is what Morrigan has been waiting for.

She confidently approaches the guards posted at the edge of the camp and asks to speak with their Keeper. The guards are reluctant but Morrigan is adamant about her request and eventually one of them goes into the camp. He returns a few minutes later with an answer: They are both allowed inside as long as they do not raise their weapons and the Keeper will speak with Morrigan - alone.

“It won’t take long,” she tells Fenris before walking away, Urthemiel sleeping soundly on the sling. Fenris is mildly confused at her words. This is as far as he had promised to go. Is he supposed to wait for her or does she expect him to go? He is still carrying some of her things and he figures it is not a good idea to just drop them somewhere. No, he will wait for her and say goodbye at least.

People avoid him and he has no problem with that. He feels as related to the Dalish as a rock and finds it interesting than Morrigan, for all her attitude, finds it easy to be friendly to them where he can only think of them with contempt. Only one person approaches him during his stay at the camp.

He finds a cool spot under a three and entertains himself watching a herd of halla from afar. After a while a little girl with long brown hair comes to stand next to him. She stares at him, then at the floor and then back at him and Fenris tries his best to look… less threatening than usual. Her tiny hands are closed around something small and white. She finally holds out her hand towards Fenris and he reaches out to take the offered object. Before he has time to examine it the girl runs off. Just as he’s about to follow her he sees Morrigan approach. The babe in her arms smiles and Fenris cannot help but smile back. Morrigan however, is not smiling at all.

“We are done here,” she says. “Let’s go.”

* * *

It is not until they have stopped for the night and lit a fire that Fenris speaks.

“I thought you would be staying with the Dalish,” he says casually. Morrigan looks up from the book she is reading and her eyes narrow, but she does answer.

“Their Keeper didn’t have what I was looking for.”

“I see. What happens now?”

“I shall keep looking.” Her voice quivers just a little. “I have to find it and I do not wish to speak of it further.”

She then changes the subject, revealing she traded the animal skins some of the potions she has made with the Dalish merchants. Fenris has no interest in seeing what she got. She puts her book away and pulls a piece of black fabric out of her pack. Fenris watches her get up and come to stand in front of him, giving the fabric a little shake and letting it unfurl between them. A cloak.

"Consider yourself lucky the Dalish prefer to clad themselves in green and brown," she says as Fenris reaches out to take it. It is a very nice cloak, the fabric soft and warm between his fingertips. He has treveled long enough with Morrigan to know this is a gift of convenience - something to get him to stop complaining about being cold and to keep him in good health should the need to battle arise. But it is still a gift nonetheless. And he cannot remember ever receiving something this nice without a heavy price to pay in return.

"Thank you," he finally says. Morrigan shrugs and heads back to the tent, but Fenris can swear he sees the barest hint of a smile just before she turns away.

* * *

A week later they make camp in a clearing near a small lake. Thankfully, they have enough provisions to keep them well fed without resorting to fish. But a lake means a chance for a bath, something Fenris is seriously considering as he sits by the fire and sharpens his sword. Morrigan comes to him first.

“I am going to the lake,” she tells him. “Could you watch him? He is already asleep and I shall not take more than a few minutes.”

He is too surprised to say anything so he nods and watches her walk away. It is the first time she has left him alone with her son. He quickly gets up to check on him. Just like she said, the babe sleeps peacefully, lovingly wrapped in a mossy green blanket. Is this a test and is Morrigan lurking in the shadows, ready to set him on fire if he even dares to touch her baby? He scoffs at such a ridiculous thought (and after a quick look around assures him he is alone.) There is probably a protective ward around the child as well, something to keep Fenris from snatching him and running away. It would also prevent him from picking up the child if something went wrong.

A small part of him worries. What if he starts crying? What is he supposed to do? What will Morrigan think if she comes back and realizes she made a mistake, allowing someone with no experience on the matter to look after Urthemiel?

Why does he even care what Morrigan thinks?

Thankfully, Urthemiel does not wake up. When Morrigan returns Fenris has put his weapon away and is polishing his gauntlets. Her hair falls loose over her shoulders and while she is fully dressed, she has yet to put on again the many trinkets she always wears around her neck and on her hair. She takes a small mirror out of her bag and looks at her reflection with concern. As far as he can remember, Fenris has always been surrounded by Magisters vain and ready to panic at the first sight of aging. Morrigan seems too young for such concerns and yet there she is. 

She turns around and her foot gets caught on a loose rock. She manages to avoid falling but she drops the mirror and her eyes widen in shock. Fenris rushes forward, lighting fast reflexes allowing him to catch it before it hits the ground. He has a brief moment to examine it - the frame is real gold, heavily adorned with encrusted gems.

“Thank you,” she says when he gives it back, holding the mirror tight against her chest. The relief in her voice and her eyes show that this mirror is valuable for more than its gold and precious stones.

“Don’t mention it,” he says as he stands up. They stand awkwardly close to each other, but neither one makes an attempt to move away. To be so close to someone and not want to pull away in fear or disgust... Not something Fenris is familiar with. Specially with a mage. He presses his hands against his thighs to avoid raising them to brush a away a strand of dark hair falling on her face. They are roughly the same height and if Morrigan were to take one step forward, their faces would be merely inches away...

Behind them, Urthemiel starts crying. Morrigan turns towards her son quickly and Fenris takes a step back.

“I should…” he begins, and then clears his throat. “I’m going to the lake.”

“Very well,” says Morrigan without turning around.

The first thing he does upon reaching the lake is cup his hands and splash water in his face. It does nothing to stop the heat he feels slowly spreading but it certainly helps.


	6. Chapter 6

“I would like to propose an alliance,” she tells him one morning over breakfast. Fenris is confused at this.

“We already have one,” he replies. But do they? He did his part on this self imposed bargain, escorting Morrigan safely to the Dalish clan. And yet, he is still here and she has not asked him to go. Yet.

“A new one then," Morrigan says. "There is certain information I need to acquire. But I cannot do so in person. If you were to visit an old friend of mine in my name, she would hand it to you. In return, when the time comes I shall provide you with assistance when you confront your former Master.”

“What kind of information?”

Morrigan smiles and holds out an envelope. He hesitates - slaves after all, are not taught to read - but he finally accepts it.

“Take this to the Warden Commander in Amaranthine,” Morrigan says. “She will provide you with what I need and you will bring it back to me."

“What kind of information?” He repeats.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“You still don’t trust me. In all the time we’ve known each other, have I lied to you?”

“You’ve kept secrets.”

“As have you. I hear you toss and turn when you sleep.” She crosses her arms over her chest. "I do not expect you to share your troubles with me. In fact, I am quite grateful you don't. But consider this: by allowing you to travel with me I have placed both my life and that of my child in the hands of someone who not only hates magic, but it is also heavily armed."

He looks away. Morrigan goes on. "And I may be sending you to another mage, but she was not only raised in your beloved Circle, but she is a highly respected Grey Warden and I can promise you she has no love for blood magic either."

Fenris sights and looks back at Morrigan. Ever since that night near the lake he has kept his distance, focusing on training and vigilance and trying not to think of her often, of how she looked with her hair down and free of jewelry. Sometimes he almost manages it, but it is hard to do so when she is right there all the time.

"Alright," he finally says. "I will go to Amaranthine and do this for you."

He is not even thinking of her end of the bargain. As powerful as Morrigan seems to be, Danarius is a man of dark powers and many resources. But the idea of going away does sound appealing. Perhaps this is what he needs: time to clear his thoughts.

 

* * *

With Morrigan's guidance, they make it back to the place where they met in less than a week. After that their journey is a short and silent one.

"This is as far as go," Morrigan finally says as they stop on the edge of the forest, near the main road. She gestures in front of her. "A few miles ahead, you must take the left path. It will take you to Vigil's Keep, the Warden's home." She looks at him. "When you have the information, return here and head into the woods. I will find you."

"Is there a place in particular where we should meet?"

She thinks about this for a moment. Then she carefully reaches behind her neck, untying a piece of leather and holding it out in front of her. A simple gold band hangs of the end of the leather.

“Here,” she says. “You should take this.”

“Why?”

“It will allow me to track you…”

Fenris takes a step back before she can finish. “And why should I allow you to use that kind of magic on me?”

Morrigan scoffs. “If you believe you can find your way across the forests of Ferelden without my help then don’t take it. It will allow me to find you when you come back.”

“Alright,” he says with a groan and accepts the ring, carefully placing it in one of the pouches on his belt, along with a few coins she has handed him earlier.

“You are supposed to wear it,” Morrigan says.

Fenris smiles. “I’ll do it later.”

Morrigan shakes her head in exasperation, and then her expression turns serious. “The Warden. She… she will want to know where I am. You mustn’t let her find me.”

“Will she ask about Urthemiel?”

“Yes. If you must, tell her he is safe and healthy. That should ne enough. I just ask you not to give her details about our location.”

“I won’t,” he promises, more out of his desire to stay out of trouble than anything else. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. He looks back at the forest. "Will you be alright on your own?"

She scoffs. "I did well on my own before you arrive and will do well after you leave." Her expressions softens a little. "You on the other hand should be careful. There are worse dangers than wild animals and darkspawn."

"I will." He looks at Urthemiel on his sling. He reaches out, his hand hovering over the child's head for one brief moment before taking a step back.

"Until we meet again," he says without looking at Morrigan. He turns around and starts to walk away.

"Until then, my friend," she calls out to him. 

He looks back once he has reached the road. Morrigan and her child are nowhere to be found.


	7. Chapter 7

The closer he got to Ferelden in his journeys, the more Fenris heard about the Hero of Ferelden: raised in the Circle, recruited by the Grey Wardens, Slayer of the Archdemon and now Warden Commander of Ferelden. Many spoke highly of her bravery and beauty; others snickered as they shared the most lurid rumors, which involved pirate queens and a dwarf in drag among many things. There were of course, those who spoke worriedly - and Fenris believed they were right to be concerned - of having a mage in a position of power. Her ruling had saved the City of Amaranthine from darkspawn and restored the trades, but she had gained many enemies in the process. 

Good or bad, everyone has an opinion on her. Fenris isn’t sure what to make of all this. The fact that she is a mage and that Morrigan seems to regard her as a friend only confuses him more. He promises himself to ignore the hearsay and form his own opinion once he meets her in person.

The soldiers guarding the door at Vigil’s Keep look at him suspiciously, but Fenris is used to it. He looks at them in the eye, gives them the letter and says he will not leave until he’s spoken with the Warden Commander. He almost sounds like Morrigan doing so. A soldier with reddish hair takes the envelope and says he will deliver the message. 

The soldier is slightly more polite when he returns and asks Fenris to follow him. As they make their way inside the Keep, Fenris is taken aback by the condition of the place. He remembers thinking how good the city looked after the darkspawn attacks and now he knows why: the Keep clearly bore the brunt of the battle. They seem to be in the middle of rebuilding and from the corner of his eye, Fenris sees a dwarf shouting instructions to a group of men working on a wall. There are also a few merchants and even a smith working on a small roofed area. Despite its condition, the place is buzzing with activity.

Fenris and his guide walk into the largest building and the inside is such a stark contrast with the destruction outside. A fire crackles merrily on a large pit and Fenris can see a throne standing proudly at the end of the room. The furniture and decorations seem old but carefully mantained. Men and women wearing the silver and blue uniform of the Wardens stand in small groups around the throne room, talking. Most of them go silent as Fenris walks by, eyeing him curiously.

The guard walks towards the door nearest to the throne and Fenris follows. 

“Commander,” the guard says as he enters, Fenris just a few steps behind. The only person in the room is a young woman clad in light armor, holding Morrigan's letter in a small, delicate hand. A large mabari lies at her feet. As soon as Fenris steps into the room, the dog raises its head, sniffing the air and wagging its tail.

She nods at the guard. “Thank you, Alec,” she says. “That will be all for now.”

“Would you like me to stand guard by the door, Commander?" Alec says as he glances nervously at Fenris. The Warden Commander smiles and shakes her head.

“That won’t be necessary. Please go back to you post.” Alec looks taken aback but he bows and walks away. The Commander remains silent until a click behind Fenris tells him they’re alone. 

So this is the Hero of Ferelden. The woman in front of him is attractive enough. Her dark wavy hair barely brushes her shoulders and frames pleasant features and large brown eyes. The lack of robes and the fact that the only visible weapons in the room are a sword and shield on one of the tables confuse Fenris.

“I am Warden Commander Amell,” she says as she gestures towards a nearby chair. “I’m afraid Alec didn’t give me your name.”

“It is Fenris,” he says, hesitating before taking the offered seat. She sits across from him and looks rather calm and collected, as if she is used to receiving elves with strange markings and heavy swords all the time. The mabari sits up straight next to her and the Commander rests her free hand on the dog's neck, absently scratching it as she speaks.

“Morrigan’s request…” she glances at the letter. “This isn’t something I can get on such short notice. It will take me a month, maybe more.”

“I can wait,” Fenris replies. Of course, that would imply staying in the area and trying hard not to draw attention to himself. But it is too late to change his mind now. And who knows? Perhaps the time away from Morrigan will allow him to clear his head and to stop questioning everything he believes about mages.

She nods in reply and the brief silence that follows makes him uncomfortable. Of course she is not ready to dismiss him yet. Morrigan warned him and he waits for the inevitable questions. 

"How is Morrigan?" she finally asks. 

"She is in good health."

"And... and the child?"

"He is taken care of."

Her eyes glisten at his words. "A boy..." She blinks and shakes her head, seemingly embarrassed of this one moment of weakness. "That is good to know. I will contact you as soon as I have what Morrigan has asked for. Are you staying in the city?"

"Yes," he says after a pause. Before she can ask for details he stands up and she follows suit. "Perhaps I can come back in a month and see if everything is ready?"

She starts to respond but a short knock makes them turn towards the door as it opens. An older man steps in.

"Commander, I have received some alarming news..." he stops as he spots Fenris. "My apologies, Commander. I didn't..."

"I have to go," Fenris says, thankful for this interruption. He looks back at the Warden. "Thank you for your time, Commander."

She looks like she's going to object to his sudden departure. But after glancing one more time at the man, she nods and asks for a guard to escort Fenris to the gate.

* * *

He takes the road to Amaranthine. The tents are gone but the city seems as populated as before. He has supper at the inn and briefly considers taking a room until he reminds himself he doesn't have enough coin to last him a month. He will need to find some work if he is to wait for the Commander's help.

It is raining heavily when he leaves the inn and by the time he has made it to the city gates he is sinking ankle-deep in mud with every step. Fenris keeps walking as he considers his next course of action. He’s already in the outskirts of Amaranthine, following a small battered road. There is a row of old houses to his left and he can see dim candlelight coming from a few windows. From just a few houses… That gives him an idea.

He goes further down the road, looking at each house carefully until he reaches the very last one. It’s just a little smaller than the others, but it seems abandoned. Fenris wraps his cloak around one arm and uses it to clean pieces of glass off a shattered window before climbing in. The place has clearly seen better days. But Fenris has seen worse. This will do perfectly. After removing all the heavy parts of his armor, drying them off and setting them carefully next to his sword, he spreads his cloak on a bed that he hopes won't crash down in the middle of the night. As he lies his tired head on the soft material, he cannot help but muse at the fact that the cloak is almost dry despite the downpour. Either a Dalish thing or one of Morrigan's spells, he thinks with a scoff.

Thank you, Morrigan.


	8. Chapter 8

He leaves the house early just to buy something to eat. Then he returns and spends the morning polishing his armor. It is still fairly early when he receives a visitor.

He hears the dog first - loud happy barks and the heavy thumps of paws across the floor. The owner’ steps are lighter, but Fenris knows she must not be far behind as the mabari throttles into the room. Fenris holds out a hand and the dog gets closer and sniffs it curiously. According to the stories he's heard, mabari hounds were originally bred in Tevinter and then brought as part of the invading armies to Ferelden, where the dogs had decided they would rather serve the barbarians than the mages. You had to respect an animal of such remarkable intelligence.

The mabari's mistress stands in the doorway a few seconds later. She is wearing the same armor as yesterday and Fenris can see the sword and shield strapped to her back.

“Good morning,” she says casually before stepping in. She looks at Fenris, then at the dog. Fenris resumes polishing his armor. 

"I came into town to buy some things and someone told me a story," she continues. "About a figure clad in black wandering near this particular house. Usually I don't pay attention to ghost stories regarding this place, but this person's description of the ghost sounded familiar." She shrugs. "I guess I can tell her it was not a ghost."

Fenris doesn't look up from his armor. “I have to admit I expected a less polite greeting.”

“Aitor seems to like you,” the Commander replies. “And he’s an excellent judge of character. Aren't you boy?” The dog barks. He listens to her steps as she walks around the room. “I haven’t been here since I first arrived to Amaranthine. I don't miss it at all.”

“Is this house yours then?”

“I belonged to a man who hung himself,” she replies. Fenris looks up. She has stopped by the window and is looking up at a spot in the ceiling. He follows her gaze, half expecting to see a body swinging in the breeze. 

She resumes her walking; only stopping to poke at a dusty cabinet with her boot. “His wife refused to foot here and eventually left. No one ever wanted to buy the house after what happened.” She shakes her head and sights, clearly upset about the memories. Then she turns her attention back to Fenris.

“I know you are going to wait for my answer to Morrigan, but if you need a place to stay, I’m sure I can arrange for a room at the inn.”

“I’d rather not,” Fenris says. No more favors from mages.

“Are you sure? It is a very nice inn. It was one of the first places that was rebuilt after the attacks as a matter of fact. Probably because it's the most popular tavern as well. You’d rather stay in an abandoned house with a tragic history?”

“If you want me to leave, Commander, just say so.”

She shrugs. “I have a city to look after, new recruits to train and darkspawn to hunt. If you are not looking for trouble I have no reason to go after you. Consider this a friendly warning. Come on, Aitor.”

The dog turns and runs towards his owner. She stops in the doorway and looks back at him, then at the sword resting at his side.

“If your blade is for hire, we could use it,” she says. 

“I didn’t know the Grey Wardens hired help.”

“This isn’t exactly Grey Warden business. It concerns the safety of Amaranthine. As the Arlessa, it is my duty to take matters into my own hands or give the right orders. But my soldiers are needed protecting the city, the roads and the farmlands, and I cannot spare as many Wardens as I want at the moment.”

“What do you need?” He is not thrilled at the prospect of helping, but this is not a favor. It's a job offer. Enough of a difference.

“There was a fire in Denerim a few months ago. Philacteries were burned and some mages took advantage of it to escape. The Templars have caught all but two and apparently they might be hiding in this area. The Templars suspect they might be resorting to blood magic as well.” An edge has crept into her voice. “If that is the case, they must be taken down. By any means necessary.”

Fenris smiles. “I can help with that.”

 

* * *

There are two Wardens waiting outside the house, a dwarf with bright red hair and an elf whose tattoos give her away as Dalish. The Commander introduces them as Oghren and Velanna. Fenris does his best not to sneer at the sight of a staff on Velanna’s hand. For someone who swore to free himself of all magical influence, he keeps finding himself in the company of more mages. On addition to an axe almost as big as Fenris’ sword, the dwarf carries a large pack.

They leave Amaranthine and head south. As they walk, the Commander explains the apostates were last seen heading towards the Wending Woods. 

“That narrows it down,” the dwarf says. “Miles of dense forest to go through.”

“No necessarily,” says the Commander. “These mages have been in the circle their whole lives. After weeks on the run, if they see a place that looks dry and has a roof, they will take it.”

“The Silverite Mine,” Velanna says.

The tree wardens look uncomfortable at this.

“Is something wrong with the mine?” Fenris asks.

“The Architect lived there,” the Commander says. Before he can ask who is she talking about, she continues. “We had to fight through his armies to escape. The bodies in there might be rotten and in really bad condition but…”

He understands. “Blood mages would raise them to fight us.”

"That should be fun," Oghren says. "Haven't had a decent fight in days."

“At least there are only two of them,” the Commander says sometime later, as she and Fenris keep watch near the mine. Once in the woods, Velanna had taken the lead. Soon they had found themselves going uphill and reaching a fork in the road. Oghren and Velanna had gone one way and the Commander has gestured to Fenris to follow her and Aitor through the other.

Fenris doesn’t find that statement calming. “One blood mage is dangerous enough. Two desperate blood mages will prove even worse.”

Before she can reply a noise makes them turn around, but it’s just the other Wardens approaching. Oghren's pack is nowhere to be seen.

"I will speak to them first," the Commander says. "See if they will listen to reason."

"Is that wise?" Fenris asks. "You might be giving them time to prepare an attack.

She looks at him. "I knew them once. The least I can do is give them one chance to surrender. Should they reject it, await for my signal and proceed. I will keep them distracted, Oghren and Velanna will deal with anything they summon and Fenris and Aitor will attack the mages from behind."

Aitor barks and wags his tail, looking at Fenris. 

Sword in hand, the Commander leads the way towards the entrance. 

* * *

The mine is unsurprisingly dark. Fenris can make out the outline of the Commander's arm raise up. A small white orb starts to glow dimly on the open palm of her left hand. When she lowers her hand the orb stays.

"Stay close," she whispers. They move through the tunnels in silence, following the Commander and the orb. To the casual observer the many tunnels and entrances they come across may have been overwhelming, but the Wardens seen to be familiar with the area. They are not attacked as they make their way deeper, but that gives Fenris no relief. The blood mages either don't know they are coming, or they saving their strength for a direct confrontation. As they go further they move from damp caves into damp bedrooms and dungeons. 

They find the first mage in the middle a large room that reminds Fenris of the fighting arenas in Tevinter. Bodies in various states of decay litter the area, but their attention is turned to the freshest one. His head has been smashed and he is lying in a pool of blood. The Commander kneels next to the body and gently holds one of his hands in hers. She turns it around, examining it. There is a large but already healed burn mark on his wrist.

"Marcus," the Commander says softly. "I used to tutor him in herbalism. I remember when he got this. Refused to let it heal enough to vanish the scar. He had some crazy ideas." She shakes her head and stands up. "Poor stupid Marcus."

"So it is true," a voice says behind them. "You hunt your own now."

They turn just in time to see the large set of door they came through close with a load slam. A man stands in front them, his robes filthy and his face haggard. He is looking at the Warden Commander with scorn.

"I am no blood mage, Reed," she says calmly.

"Of course not. You are just Irving's pet that will sell her friends for the right price."

She sees taken aback by his words, but recovers quickly. "Jowan should have known better. Just like you." She sheaths her sword and takes a step forward, hands held in front of her. "Surrender peacefully and I will speak in your behalf to the First Enchanter."

"Is that what you offered Jowan?" Reed says. "Before you killed him in Redcliffe anyway? Some say he disappeared, but we know better, right? You gave him up once and he escaped. You just couldn't make that same mistake twice."

"Is that why you killed Marcus?"

Reed shakes his head. "He wanted to go back. Said he'd rather be safe in the tower than live in fear. What a fool!"

"He was not the fool here."

The mage does not reply, choosing instead of raise his staff. The Commander looks at Fenris and the wardens, giving them a short nod before her hands start glowing and her body is covered with stone just as the fireball hits.

There is no time to see if she is harmed by the spell as the bodies around them begin to rise. Or at least the ones still complete enough to do so. As a precaution, Fenris turns and swings his sword, slicing the dead mage just as he begins to rise. There are still plenty of creatures to fight, but Fenris thinks they should consider themselves lucky. This mage is both inexperienced and unprepared and his improvised armies are not as powerful as he had hoped for, even with the blood of his murdered friend.

A few steps away he sees a ghoul standing behind Velanna, raising its sword. Fenris is about to yell a word of warning when thick vines crack the ground open, quickly wrapping themselves around the mage and sinking back in the earth. He hears a loud rumbling sound behind him and turns just in time to see the vines rising and sinking again, leaving Velanna standing in their place.

"I'll take care of these," she tells him. "You go after the mage."

Fenris feels the familiar heat of distant fire spells behind as he runs. He passes Oghren and the Commander, slices through a shambling skeleton and raises his sword once more when he is close enough to the blood mage. Unfortunately, he turns just in time to see Fenris approaching. With the others surrounded, he has time to focus on Fenris and his next spell sends him flying across the room. Fenris hits the wall with a painful thud and he can hear the loud clatter of his sword as it falls and slides a few feet away from him. As he gets up he hears the mage scream and sees something large and brown latched to his leg. The mage tries to reach down; fire in his hands, but the mabari is fast and jumps out of the way. 

The mage continues shooting blasts of fire and the dog continues to elude them. Fenris runs once again towards them, the lyrium in his markings flaring alight. The mage turns once again but this time he not fast enough. Fenris' hand phases through the man's chest and tears his heart out without hesitation. 

As the body falls, so do his minions. The wardens stand between the corpses, dirty and bruised but otherwise unharmed. They look the dead mage and then at Fenris who is just letting heart in his hand fall to the floor with a wet thud. He looks at them expectantly, almost curious about their reaction.

It is Oghren who finally breaks the silence. "You really don't like blood mages, do you?"


	9. Chapter 9

It’s already night by the time they make their way out of the mine. Velanna guides them a little further into what seems to be an abandoned camp. Oghren pulls out the large pack from behind a couple of broken tents. There is a small row of graves in a corner. Velanna approaches them alone, bowing her head and muttering something Fenris cannot hear. He stays back with the others. When Velanna returns to their side, the Commander steps forward.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks Velanna. “If you prefer we can go further down the road.”

“No. We will be better off here.”

“Very well then,” the Commander says before turning to the men. “It’s too late to return to the Keep. We will camp here tonight.”

They set up camp and eat in silence. Fenris half expects to see Morrigan approach him and hear the soft snoring of the babe. Instead it is the Commander who comes to him, giving him a bed roll and third watch. He finds himself surprisingly tired as he lays his head down.

 

* * *

He wakes up to the sound of an argument

“Don’t.”

"I'm not doing anything."

"But you were about to."

Fenris opens his eyes and cranes his head to see both mages sitting by the fire. The Commander is holding her hands near the flames.

“I was just warming up,” she tells the elf, who scoffs.

“You were thinking of trying something with the fire. Do I have to remind you what happened last time?”

“I didn’t like that chair anyway,” replies the Commander which causes Velanna to shake her head.

“I cannot believe you never learned how to do fire spells properly.”

“I focused my talents elsewhere. And I can do fire spells. I just... cannot control them that well.”

"Which is why you should leave the magical care of the fire to me."

“Who does a dwarf have to kill to get some sleep in here?” Oghren calls out from the other end of the camp. The Commander covers her mouth and takes a deep breath, trying hard not to laugh out loud. She then heads towards her own bedroll, where Aitor is already snoring loudly.

Fenris gets up and moves closer to the flames. It is almost time for his watch anyway. From her own spot near the fire, Velanna looks at him.

“You are not Dalish,” she says, stating the obvious. Fenris does his best not to scoff.

“I was born in Tevinter.”

"I see," she says and then nothing else. Fenris looks beyond the campsite. It is very hard to make up the small mounds in the dark, but he knows he’s looking in the right direction when she shifts uncomfortably.

“Those graves… Friends of yours?”

“People from my clan.”

Fenris suddenly remembers something. He reaches inside one of his pouches and retrieves a small object. It is the first time he has taken the time to look at it closely and realizes it is a small carving of a wolf. He holds it out for Velanna to see.

"I did come across a Dalish camp during my travels. Someone gave me this."

Velanna moves closer and he can swear she is smiling and she gets a closer look. "Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf."

"The Dread Wolf?"

"Lord of Tricksters and Roamer of the Beyond. You never learned the stories about the Old Gods?" She is clearly upset about this.

He laughs softly. "That is not the kind of story they share with slaves in Tevinter." He looks again at the tiny figure. "My master did give me the name Fenris. I was his... little wolf."

"Oh," Velanna says and her tone is slightly softer.

Fenris says nothing, rolling the figure between his fingers. 

"If that name only brings you bad memories," she adds. "You could call yourself something else."

"Like what?" he says, a little more harshly that he intended to.

"Keep it then," she says in a similar manner. "Embrace it if it means that much to you."

A bitter reply dies in his lips as he realizes a part of him welcomes this - tense conversations by a campfire. It should bother him, but it only makes him wonder how Morrigan and the child are doing. He tries to distract himself by focusing on the wolf in his hand.

"I cannot say I've seen figures like this one often."

"Of Fen'Harel? In the camps it is customary to have larger effigies, always set aside and facing away. A reminder for all of us."

"Reminder of what?"

"To always be wary."

Always be wary. Had he received such a warning before, would he have continued traveling with Morrigan?

He is not sure he wants to know the answer.

* * *

The next day begins with a darkspawn attack. Just five of them and with three Wardens and a mabari the fight is thankfully short. Fenris is not allowed to clean his own weapon after the battle and is asked to give it to Oghren instead. For all his filthy habits, the dwarf is very careful with Fenris’ blade. Still, it is one of the few things of value he possesses. It feels wrong to leave its care to someone else.

“Darkspawn blood can kill you,” the Commander says when he comments on it. “It poisons you slowly. It’s not a nice way to go.”

“I am aware of that. But if you were coming to face darkspawn then why did you bring me?”

“I told you, I couldn’t spare any more of my Wardens or soldiers. And there aren’t as many darkspawn around this area since we had some of the entrances to the Deep Roads blocked.” Aitor approaches and rests his head on her lap. She absentmindedly scratches the back of his head as she continues. “And anyway, they were not our target. The blood mages were.”

“Could have been worse,” Oghren say as he approaches, handing Fenris his sword back.

“Worse how?” Fenris asks.

“We could have been facing an ogre.”

“I thought you liked battling ogres the best,” the Commander says.

“I do. Not just before breakfast.”

"Oh please," Velanna says as she looks up from the fire. "Breakfast for you is a swig of that disgusting ale of yours."

"Exactly. Breakfast it's a sacred time for me." He pulls out a flask from his pack and takes a long swig. He then holds it out to Fenris. "Want some?"

"Don't do it," the Commander warns. "Anything he brews can kill you."

"You think I would share my best brews with some stranger?" Oghren says, then quickly adds a "No offense."

Fenris shrugs and grabs the flask. The liquour burns his throat and makes him shudder. As a slave he was never allow spirits and on the run the chances for a drink have been few and far in between, always needing the clarity alcohol took away. But once his throat feels normal again he decides this isn't so bad. He will have to look into it.

* * *

They finish unpacking and leave the woods. Oghren and Velanna head for the keep. Fenris and the Commander continue towards the city. Once they reach the gates, she takes a small pouch from her belt and hands it to Fenris.

“I’ll be going to Denerim next week,” she tells him. “I’ll take the opportunity to see if I can start looking into what Morrigan wants.”

“Thank you.”

“What you did back there,” she says and he does his best not to react. “We could use someone with your talents.”

Is she really asking him to join the Wardens?

He shakes his head “I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather be on my own.”

“I understand. Just keep it in mind, alright?”

He only nods in reply. They are approaching the market when the Commander stops and waves at one of the shopkeepers.

"If you come by the Keep tomorrow," she tells Fenris "I might have more work for you."

"I will." The purse is heavy in his hand and he would welcome the chance of more. "Thank you, Commander."

She nods and turns to the approaching shopkeeper as Fenris walks away.


	10. Chapter 10

Fenris returns to the house and spends the rest of the day exploring the rooms. There is really nothing of value left and most of what little furniture is left is falling apart, but he finds things here and there - a big chair with all its legs, an empty lantern, a scarf left behind on the bottom of a drawer - and takes it all to the room he has claimed. It feels almost livable now.

Shortly after sunset he heads to the inn to get something to eat. The last two times he has been in here, conversations have stopped as people stares at him. Tonight is no different and Fenris does his best to ignore the silence and the stares. His coin is as good as theirs and if he is going to stay for a while, they're going to have to get to seeing him.

And besides, it is not the townspeople he worries about. He has managed to put so much distance between himself and Danarius. But how long until bounty hunters and slavers show up, trying to claim the prize?

Someone calls his name - a rough, booming voice - and he tenses and turns, ready to face… a dwarf? 

Not just a dwarf. He recognizes the fiery red hair and the silver and blue uniform. Oghren sits in one of the corner tables, a big grin on his face as he waves. Beside him, a dark haired man gives Fenris a polite nod. 

“Come over here!” Oghren says aloud and Fenris approaches, aware of how silent the room has gotten all of the sudden. 

“I was just leaving,” he says, gesturing towards the door. Oghren laughs and shakes his head.

“Nonsense! Grab a chair. Sigrun is on her way but we could use another one. You play diamondback?”

“I don’t…”

“Then I’ll have to teach you.” Oghren is already waving at the barmaid. “Bring another glass for the elf, Sorcha.”

“Please and thank you,” the dark haired man adds. He turns to Fenris and offers a hand. “Nathaniel Howe,” he says. Fenris looks at his gauntled covered arms, Nathaniel sees this and lowers his own. He doesn't seem bothered at all and continues talking. “I understand you helped the Commander deal with the apostates. I’m glad to hear the situation is under control.”

“I did,” Fenris says as he takes a seat. The barmaid places a mug filled to the brim with beer in front of him. Fenris’ hand moves towards his purse but Oghren shakes his head. 

“It’s on me. I’ll be taking your money soon enough.” He's already shuffling a deck of cards that has clearly seen better days. Behind them, conversations have resumed, but Fenris knows they stare at the table from time to time.

One game, Fenris thinks. He will play one game and then excuse himself.

* * *

Sigrun turns out to be another dwarf. She is thankfully not as loud as Oghren. She has short dark hair and the many tattoos on her face bring out bright blue eyes. She is also disturbingly perky. As soon as Fenris is introduced, she has half a dozen questions regarding his abilities - apparently Oghren wouldn't stop talking about what happened in the mine. Nathaniel asks questions from time to time, but he seems more comfortable listening. Fenris gives short, simple answers and focuses on his cards.

Diamondback, Fenris discovers, is remarkably easy to learn. Winning a hand is an entirely different matter. Between the game and the seemingly endless flow of ale, it's not hard to lose the track of time. Even after he is done losing coin and Sigrun has retired to a room for the night, he remains in his seat, watching the others play, drinking and picking out bits of a pork pie that appeared on the table somewhere between the sixth and tenth games. 

When it is finally over he is the first to get up, thanking the men for everything and heading for the exit. As he passes near the bar something in the back catches his eye. Among the many bottles one stands out to him, taking Fenris back to long nights on his feet, clad in leather and silk as he poured bottle after bottle for Danarius' guests. He may not be able to read the words, but he would recognize it anywhere: Aggregio Pavali. How such a thing has ended up in a small inn in Ferelden worries him. Could danger be closer than he thought?

"You like that?" Oghren says behind him. Fenris does his best not to look startled. When did the dwarf get so close?

"I'm... familiar with it," he says. Or at least tries to. He feels as if there are pieces of cotton glued to his mouth. As least his speech is nowhere near as slurred at his companion.

Oghren is already gesturing to the very sleepy and grouchy bartender. "Give us that one," he says.

Fenris starts shaking his head. "You don't have to..."

"Least I can do after that game," the dwarf says. "Besides, all those bottles over there? Almost no one drinks from them. It's all fancy stuff taken from smugglers and the nobles are too good to step foot in here. You are doing the inn a favor."

The Bartender places the bottle on the counter. "I'll throw in some antivan brandy if you retire for the night," he tells Oghren. "and the rest of the day."

"Done!" Oghren says and then looks at Fenris. "See? Everyone wins."

"Thank you," Fenris says and then finds himself alone by the bar as the dwarf makes his way upstairs, clutching the brandy with one hand and making sure the wall doesn't go away with the other.

Dawn has started to turn the sky a dull shade of pink when Fenris finally steps outside. Nathaniel is leaning against the wall, rubbing his temples.

"Sometimes it is impossible to drink in moderation with Oghren," he says, then stands up straight. "Are you really staying at the Haunted House?"

"It's not haunted," Fenris mutters then tries to change the subject. "Are you walking all the way back to the Keep?"

"My sister lives in the city. She would kill me if I didn't drop by." He smiles at this and Fenris briefly wonders what it must feel like - to have a family that cares.

They say their goodbyes and head in opposite directions. Fenris only stumbles a couple of times before finally making it into the house. He places the bottle on the nightstand and looks at it. A part of him feels he should have been firmer and refused the gift. But the more he thinks about it, the more grateful he feels towards the loud, drunken dwarf. He will save this for a special time. Perhaps once Danarius is dead. In this state he remembers Morrigan's promise and wonders if it is not as far fetched as he thought. Having someone watching his back, helping him in what is sure to be the battle of his life... he wouldn't reject it.

When he finally goes to bed, he dreams of shiny black hair and golden eyes.

* * *

Bright sunlight spills through the broken window when Fenris wakes up. He lies in bed for a few minutes, thirsty and only slightly nauseous. It is only when he remembers he is supposed to meet the Commander that he jumps out of bed and tries to make himself look presentable. Which easier said than done when your head is about to explode and you are resisting the urge to vomit.

He is feeling a little better by the time he reaches the Keep. There are more guards at the gates today and one of them is Soldier Alec from yesterday. He is lukewarm but polite, escorting Fenris inside and warning him to keep his weapon sheathed because "the nobles are in a mood." 

Fenris doesn't understand what that means until he walks into the throne room. 

The Warden Commander sits on the throne. She wears a different set of armor today, newer looking and carefully polished. Her hair has been pulled away from her face and even her mabari seems to be sitting more straight up next to her. Several people wait at a prudent distance, mostly peasants, judging by their clothes, though Fenris can make up a few nobles and wardens. A few steps away from him, a door opens. He turns around quickly and finds himself facing Sigrun. If she is feeling the effects of a night of heavy drinking it doesn't show and Fenris envies her.

"Hi," she says. "Fenris, right?"

"Yes." He looks towards the throne. "I was supposed to meet with the Commander but... not like this." He gestures towards the crowd. A few heads turn their way but Fenris ignores them.

"Once a week, the people of Amaranthine come to the Keep asking for justice," Sigrun explains in a whisper. "She gets to chose punishment and rewards for people. Isn't it amazing?"

There is nothing amazing about giving power to a mage, but Fenris keeps it to himself. They watch as a woman steps forward, accusing the man next to her of stealing some of her cattle. A man clad in heavy armor next to the Commander - a man Fenris recognizes as the one who interrupt them the other day - leans forward and they speak in hushed tones for a few moments. The Commander's eyes wander around the throne room and briefly stop at Fenris and Sigrun before she turns to the man.

"If you are waiting for the Commander, she'll be done in about an hour," Sigrun says. "Come, you can wait in the library."

He follows Sigrun through the door she had come through just as the Commander orders the man to give his side of the story. 

The library is a cozy room with very worn out furniture and walls lined with books. Clearly, it is not a room for show. Fenris feels uncomfortable surrounded by books, thinking back of Danarius' studio. 

"You came all the way from Amaranthine?" he asks Sigrun as she runs her fingers through the worn spines of some books.

"Yes. Just after breakfast. Oghren is probably still sleeping it off and Nathaniel is spending the day with his family. But I wanted to come back for my book." She frowns at the self. "It's called Hard in Hightown. Have you read it?" 

"I can't say I have."

"You should. It's great. I can lend it to you when I'm done if you are staying around."

"I appreciate it, but I am not a big reader."

"I love reading. And there so many books to choose from here." She continues to move through bookshelves. "And of course I cannot find the one I'm reading. Can you give me a hand?"

"No I can't," he finally snaps. He has more biting remarks but they die when he sees the look on Sigrun's face. "I never learned to read and I'd rather not talk about it."

He turns towards the window and crosses his arms.

"I'm sorry," Sigrun says behind him.

"Apology accepted," he says without turning. He hears a chair move and the sound of pages being turned. He focus his attention outside, where he can see a small garden. A bird perches on a nearby tree and Fenris entertains himself by watching it for a while. When the bird finally flies away, Fenris focuses on the garden once more.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, but he knows some time has passed by the time the door opens and the Commander walks in. She looks at Fenris.

"There you are. Let's take a walk."

She walks out and Fenris follows.

* * *

They go outside, where the Commander stops to discuss a few things with some of the merchants and then leads Fenris to the forge, where a bald man named Wade assures the Commander her new shield will be finished soon before spending five minutes cooing over Fenris' armor and complaining how he is never allowed to try his hand at something so unique. He is still calling out to Fenris to come over some time when the Commander is saying her goodbyes at Wade.

"I'm sorry," she says once they are at a safe distance. "Wade can get a little excited."

"Just a little?"

"He is passionate about what he does. And the more unique the job, the better."

"Like that shield he making for you," Fenris says and she nods in reply. "A shield and a sword. Not a staff."

She shrugs. "Something I learned a long time ago. Still learning as a matter of fact."

They continue in silence after that. The Commander leads the way back into the building itself through a different door and up a few flights of stairs to the battlements. Fenris is starting to wonder how long this walk is going to take when the Commander finally stops next to a huge unloaded ballista. Somewhere is the distance they can hear the clashing of swords and a dog barking. The training grounds must be somewhere close.

"I take it you've never seen a mage armed with a blade before," the Commander says casually.

"Small ones." For blood magic and such. But never with swords.

She nods. "Velanna told me you come from Tevinter." 

"She did." Of course Velanna would tell. She can tell the two mages are close.

"We don't get many people from Tevinter here. Most of my soldiers and wardens come from all over the country. A few Orlesians are supposed to join us soon."

Fenris wonders if there is a point to this or if the Commander is in the habit of making small talk with strangers.

"There are many kinds of people here," she says. "Circle mages, dwarves, criminals that we conscript, Templars... Or rather, we had a templar. Rolan his name was. He was an excellent warrior, but came to us with false pretenses. Turns out, he was after one of our mages. Confronted him with a dozen Templars and told him I had agreed to it. The mage reacted.... badly." She shudders at the memory. "I was in the city when it happened and by the time I came back, all the Templars were dead, along with three wardens caught in the crossfire. The mage got away."

Fenris is not surprised at this story. When cornered, mages will not hesitate in taking down everyone. "And you never hunted this mage down?"

"It was complicated," she replies with a shrug. "He was no blood mage and by the time we were done cleaning up the mess and burning the bodies, he had left the country."

She should have done more, Fenris thinks. A dangerous apostate on the loose and the wardens had left him go. 

"The things you said yesterday," she continues. "I understand your feelings towards mages go beyond dislike. But after what happened with my friend, I am wary of that way of thinking." 

Fenris says nothing and she goes on. "That said, Morrigan seems to trust you and you may have noticed she is not the kind to trust anyone."

"But you don't trust me," he says.

"Not completely."

He smiles a little. "Would it help if I said the feeling is mutual?"

She is not smiling when she replies, but there is a hint of amusement in her voice. "It's a start."

She turns her attention towards the ballista, one hand running through the wooden surface. "The Keep needs a lot of work and like I said I don't have enough men to do everything. If you were to help around you would be paid and have our resources at your disposal."

"And what would your men say of having someone like me around?"

"Some will like it. Others won't. But I expect everyone to put their differences aside and work together for the greater good. We already know what happens when that doesn't happen" She puts emphasis on the "everyone" aspect.

He knows this is more than a job offer. It's her way of keeping an eye on him during his stay in Amaranthine. A part of him wants to reject her offer and start running again, away from these mages and their deals. Morrigan probably doesn't intend to help him anyway. He still has some coin left, enough to book passage on any ship leaving the city.

And yet a part of him resists, bound to see this through. He will get what Morrigan needs, deliver it to her and then... 

Well, by the time this is over, hopefully he will be thinking more clearly.

"What do you need me to do?"


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, the guards let Fenris inside without any trouble and just as the Warden Commander instructed, he goes to the training grounds, where Nathaniel Howe awaits with orders.

The job is simple enough: he is, like the Commander said, an extra pair of hands in a place that could use more wardens and soldiers. There are simply not enough men and women to do everything. No wonder she invited him to join despite her lack of trust.

There are reports of bandits roaming the forest, of darkspawn stubbornly refusing to go underground. Small groups patrol different areas and Fenris happily joins in, slicing through the enemy not out of a sense of duty or justice, but as someone who knows there is coin to be had. He could almost be called a mercenary on the side of good, or as good as being employed by mages can be. 

Fortunately with the Commander gone to Denerim, Velanna is not particularly interested in him and the remaining mages avoid him as much as possible. The few times they end up working together they barely exchange any words. Nathaniel is quiet and polite whenever they talk, but Fenris suspects different motives. Each warden is keeping his or her eyes on him on the Commander's orders and Fenris' suspects Nathaniel is the one in charge of that as well. Oghren alternates between juvenile teasing and nonsense conversations, almost always while being impossibly drunk. Fenris has to admit the dwarf's skill with a weapon is nothing short of brilliant. 

Sigrun is just as skilled but is just as quiet as Nathaniel the days she goes on patrol, a stark contrast to the perky, upbeat woman he met days ago. He recalls their conversation at the library and tells himself to let it be. Hopefully she will do the same. Or so he hopes. But since when have things gone his way?

She follows him after one of their patrols. She says nothing at first and he doesn't encourage her. She is probably just heading to the city. Once they reach it they will go their separate ways in silence and...

"I wanted to apologize," she says. "For what I said."

Venhedis!

"That is not necessary," he starts but she continues.

"I never meant to offend you, I swear! I..."

Fenris shakes his head, a bitter remark dying in the tip of his tongue. "I'd rather not dwell on it. It's too late to do something about it."

She doesn't reply and Fenris thinks it is finally over. They continue in silence until they reach the gates of the city.

"It's not," she says softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's not too late. To learn, I mean. I only learned a few years ago. My friend Varlan taught me at the legion." Her voice lights up at the mention of her friend. "I could teach you. If you wanted, that is."

He looks at her, this girl with the sharp blades and the shiny blue eyes. He just wants her to leave him alone, to stop trying to make everything better. But he cannot quite bring himself to fully reject her offer.

"Perhaps," he finally says. "But not today." There. A nice compromise and Sigrun seems to like it. Even as he heads for the house and she for the gates he can hear him happily talking about how she will find the perfect book. Fenris shakes his head in amusement and wonder what are the odds of her forgetting about this conversation.

***

The odds, as it turns out, are quite low.

The next time they met, Sigrun tells him she has found some books for him to look at. He agrees to one lesson and the next day she shows up at the abandoned house, her pack filled with books and some food. There no patrols for them that day and Fenris tells himself they will have the one lesson and see what comes out of it. He half expects her to eventually grow bored and focus her seemingly endless energy in something else. But as the day goes by his bad mood fades and he finds himself drinking in her every word, trying to memorize each letter. A world of possibilities opens up, filled with wonder and knowledge long denied to him. When it's time for Sigrun to go, they agree on meeting in three days. And again. And again.

Weeks pass in an easy routine: work, rest, lessons. Though no matter how busy he gets, he never lets his guard down. when all is said and done, he is a man on a mission and he knows it is only a matter of time before this comes to an end. He gets a reminder of this one night as Sigrun is getting ready to leave.

"The Commander is coming back in a few days," she tells Fenris. "She was supposed to be back last week, but sent a message saying that she was going to the Circle first." She seems confused at this.

"Isn't she from the Circle?" Fenris asks. 

"Yes, but I don't think she has ever gone back in all the time I've met her. She usually travels only to Denerim to meet with the king and queen. And we went to Orzammar one time but that's it."

She then tells Fenris about a tablet found at Kal'Hirol, detailing the bravery of their castless. 

"It was a big deal for us," Sigrun concludes. "The Commander even invited me to come along for the ceremony."

There is something about the way she talks about the Warden Commander. "You are close to her."

Sigrun chuckles. "We are friends and I owe her a lot." She looks at Fenris expectantly, obviously waiting for his opinion.

"She seems alright." For a mage, that is. "Have you known each other for long?"

"Less than a year. She hasn't been the Commander for long. I think Oghren has known her the longest. They traveled together during the Blight."

Suddenly Fenris is back in the forest, staring at the fire as Morrigan weaves a sad tale.

During the Blight, I traveled with the Hero of Ferelden.

An idea starts to form in his mind and remains long after Sigrun has departed. Not the wisest idea and Oghren may not be the most reliable source, but he has made his mind. It is only a matter of getting to the dwarf.

 

* * *

The opportunity presents itself three days later. After patrol it is not hard to lure the dwarf into the city with the promise of some ale. Their conversation is casual at first - talk about the patrols and the city. But as Oghren orders a third round, Fenris decides to try his luck.

"Sigrun mentioned you've known the Commander for a long time."

"Yep, left with her after she got Bhelen crowned king in Orzammar. Nothing left there for me there."

"And I take it you met her other... companions."

Oghren leans forward and smiles lasciviously. "Oooooh I see. You want the dirty details, don't you?"

"What? No!" Fenris says, loud enough for everyone at the inn to turn and stare. His next words come out softer. "I'm just curious about the others who traveled with you and the Commander that's all."

"Really? You don't want to hear the details about the Commander and her honey? She was odd but very pretty."

Fenris looks down at his mug, wondering if it would be possible to drown in it.

"Too bad she left for Orlais," Oghren adds. "I'm sure the Commander misses her."

"I'm sure she does," Fenris mutters, looking for a way to move the subject a little. "Was the Commander the only mage in the group?"

"Nah. Wynne was there." As he speaks, the dwarf sits back and smiles. "A woman after my own heart. Her knowledge of fine ales was exquisite. And she was always nice to you, unlike Morrigan."

Fenris does his best to sound just curious. "Morrigan?"

"Witch of the Wilds she was. Very grumpy and sneaky. Threatened to kick my manhood more than once. You can't deny she had spark." His voice drops into a whisper. "Don't tell the Commander that though. They were very close. Not the way she and Leliana were close, but they really got along. Good for them, I guess."

"You didn't like this Morrigan too much."

"The feeling was mutual." He glances at Fenris' mug with a frown. "You've barely touch it. Want to get something stronger?"

"Not really."

The dwarf shrugs. "Your loss. Now drain it and we'll get another. You wanna hear stories? I'll give you stories."


	12. Chapter 12

What started with a few drinks at the Inn ends hours later at the Keep's throne room, with Fenris surrounded by Wardens and soldiers and examining a large chalice in his hands just as the Warden Commander walks in, followed by Aitor. She looks at the crowd standing around and then at Fenris himself. Her eyes widen at the sight of the chalice.

“Don’t do it,” she says. “That stuff could kill you.” She takes a step forward. "Put it down. Now."

Fenris looks at her, then at the chalice. Maybe she is right. Then he looks at the expectant faces around him. Their silent encouragement and the alcohol in Fenris' body win over common sense and the Commander's orders.

He takes a deep breath and raises the cup to his lips. As the warm liquid goes down his throat he regrets agreeing to this. It burns and for a brief moment he is back in Seheron, where the Qunari powder sets everything around him on fire and Fenris is cutting a bloody path through everyone and everything as he tries not to fall due to life threatening injuries and sheer exaustion. His body is on fire, his throat is closing and his knees give in. He doesn't know how long he is there, trying to breathe and waiting for the pain to pass. At some point someone kneels next to him and starts patting his back.

“Give him some space!” someone shouts. A flask is pressed against his lips and he tilts his head back. Water. Sweet, wonderful and cool water. Eventually his breathing evens out and he is able to sit up and examine his surroundings. 

"Are you alright?" the person besides him asks. Nathaniel. Fenris nods. He can hear Oghren’s raucous laughter and see the Warden Commander - or is that two blurry Warden Commanders? - shaking her head in disapproval.

“What have I told you about sharing that special brew of yours, Oghren?” she says, staring at the dwarf.

Oghren stops laughing and takes a breath before replying “You asked me not to torture the recruits with it, Commander. But Fenris here is not a recruit!”

“I will have to change the rules to include that,” the Commander mutters before turning her attention back to Fenris. "I can smell it from here! Are you making it stronger?"

"Experimenting," Oghren replies. "You should give this one a try, Commander. Remember what happened the first time you drank it? This one is new and improved!"

She groans and moves closer to Fenris, offering a hand. His head clearer and the fire almost gone, he takes the offered hand and manages to stand. Nathaniel stands right next to him. 

"Take him to my sitting room," she tells Nathaniel and then to Fenris. "I'll be there shortly."

Fenris moves forward, unwilling to be held like a sick person. Nathaniel follows in silence and watches Fenris settle on a nice chair - the same chair he sat on when he first met the commander, in fact.

"I think she is mad," Fenris finally says and Nathaniel shakes her head.

"Just concerned. Anything that Oghren brews himself can be used to polish metal. And yet everyone here has had a taste at least once."

"I guess I should feel honored then."

"Very," the Commander says and both men turn to see her in the doorway. She is carrying a large, heavy looking leather bag and Nathaniel steps forward to help her with it. After placing it carefully on a desk he looks at the Commander expectantly. She steps out of the room and he follows. They speak in hushed tones and Fenris can hear his name being spoken at least twice. Finally the Commander steps inside and closes the door. She gives Fenris one long look as she walks further into the room.

"How do you feel?" she asks and her tone is softer than before. Whatever Nathaniel reported must have been very favorable.

"I'll live."

She is shaking her head again, but he can see the amusement in her eyes. "You held a lot better than most. When I first tried something of Oghren's, I passed out for two hours."

"I think he mentioned that," he says, remembering their conversation at the inn. An anecdote that had become a drunken dare. He needed to learn how to hold his liquour better.

The Commander is opening the bag on her desk and pulling out some books from it.

“This is what Morrigan asked for. It wasn’t easy but here they are.”

Fenris gets up and moves towards the desk. So this is it then. Morrigan sent him to get spellbooks for her. He picks one of the books carefully and weights it in his hand. His reading skills are still very low and a part of him wishes he could open one and understand every word, maybe even get closer to what Morrigan truly intends. He places the book back on the desk and opens it. His eyes are immediatly drawn to woodcut in one of the pages. 

"Dragons," he says. "What kind of spellbook is this?"

"There are no spellbooks here." She says before tapping one finger on top of the woodcut. "This is a history of the Blight. Two books are about Tevinter history and this one over here is about the Dalish."

"That's it?" It cannot be. "Are you certain?"

She raises one eyebrow at these questions. "I am quite certain. Is there something wrong?"

"No I just... I thought it would be something different. More than a few history books anyway."

"Will it make you feel better if I mention how hard to acquire some of them were? The Tevinter books were on the Circle and they lost a large part of their collection after what happened with Uldred so they weren't too willing to part with them. I had to promise I'd order replacements from Tevinter myself. Thank the maker for a fellow mage from the circle doing research over there. I'll be writing to her this week."

By this point Fenris is barely listening. He leans against the desk, thinking. What kind of game is Morrigan playing? Her help in exchange for harmless books?

"I've also bought some things," the Commander says. "For Morrigan and the child. And for you." He looks at her and nods. "I'll give them to you tomorrow when you leave. I'd rather you don't leave in the middle of the night in your condition so I've had a room prepared for you."

"Thank you," Fenris says, hoping his voice doesn't betray him. If it does, the Commander probably believes is the alcohol speaking.

* * *

The Commander puts the books inside the bag again and hands it to Fenris. He helds it against his chest as she guides him upstairs and opens the door to a small bedroom. Once alone, Fenris places the bag on one side of the bed, removes his chestpiece and gauntlets and then lies on the other side, staring at the bag.

So many questions and he isn't sure he wants the answers.

His stomach growls and he groans. When was the last time he ate? He recalls there being food at the table when he was with Oghren at the inn. But between the conversation and the drinking they had barely touched it. Between his travels with Morrigan and his stay in Amaranthine, he has almost forgotten what it's like to go hungry. He does his best to ignore the feeling. His body would probably react badly if he were to eat anything in his current condition. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, hoping sleep will come soon.

***

_He sits under a table, his tummy growling. The table stands in the middle of a large kitchen, filled with the smells of delicious food and buzzing with activity as everyone hurries up to prepare the meals. He sees a pair of tanned legs peeking from under a green dress right in front of him. From to time to time a hand finds its way under a table with a small piece of food which he grabs with his (oh so tiny) hands. A shorter, paler pair of legs comes to view. This one kneels down to look at Fenris. Her hair is bright red, pulled away from her face in a pair of pigtails. She smiles at him and says a word, muffled by other voices and the clanging of dishes. Then she takes his hand and leads him out of the kitchen and into a courtyard. She is laughing and so is he as she lets go of his hand and breaks into a run. It's a game, one of the few joys in their life and he follows her, he wishes there was some way to feel like this forever._

_Free._

***

Fenris' eyes snap open and he gasps. Just a dream, but not the nightmares that constantly haunt him. A memory? He has never remembered anything from his life before. He closes his eyes, willing sleep to return, hoping he can go back and see more. It doesn't happen of course, and Fenris is left lying awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to remember ever detail.

***

He is already up and fully armored by the time Nathaniel knocks on the door. They go to the dining room, where other Wardens are already finishing their breakfast. Nathaniel and Fenris head to the end of the large table, where the Commander sits surrounded by familiar faces. Fenris is ravenous and grateful when a servant brings him a plate of bread and meat. The Wardens talk while he eats, discussing the pending repairs and upcoming Deep Roads expeditions. Aitor sits at her feet and from time to time the Commander offers him bits of food from her plate. Oghren seems particularly excited at the prospect of a Deep Roads expedition, though Fenris gets the feeling the dwarf would get excited at the prospect of any kind of battle.

The Commander gives a few orders and the Wardens get up, ready to start their day. As they leave the table, some come to Fenris and say goodbye. News travel fast in the keep it seems. Sigrun is one of the last to leave and she places a very small parcel next to Fenris' plate.

"It's the book we were reading," she says and before Fenris can refuse she adds. "Don't stop practicing." 

And then she is gone.

"You made quite an impression," the Commander tells him. Aitor makes a small noise and she picks a bit of sausage for him.

"Is that a compliment?" he asks as he sits back, satisfied. He closes his eyes for a moment and remembers life at Tevinter, where he would stand behind Danarius during a meal in silent watch, refilling the guests' wine glasses when asked to. If the magister was in a good mood, there would be scraps from the table and perhaps a piece of fruit. He can almost smell it - the spices and wines, the meat cooked to perfection. He takes a deep breath, the vision almost too real. If only he could remember the one about the little girl as well.

"Fenris?"

He opens his eyes. Blinks twice. The Commander is looking at him. 

"Are you alright?"

He nods. "Yes. I was... I drifted off. Sorry."

"If you are not feeling well, perhaps you shouldn't leave today."

"I'll be fine," he assures her. If she doesn't believe him she chooses to say nothing about it. Instead she gives him a few small parcels to add to the bag - the promised things for Morrigan, the child and himself - and then escorts him to the gates.

"Should you find yourself in need of... coin, you are welcome to return," she says.

"I appreciate that." He bows to her and Aitor. "Thank you, Commander."

He can feel her eyes on him as he walks away.


	13. Chapter 13

He returns to the old house and gathers the rest of his things. He intends to leave right away, but inspiration strikes and he walks into the city instead. He wanders the market stalls, using some of his coin to buy a few things - some food, a couple of bottles to go with the Agreggio, some other things that he thinks he - they - might need. As he passes a stall filled with shiny rings and necklaces, he remembers Morrigan's ring. At first, justified paranoia had kept him from wearing it. Then in the middle of keeping busy he had just decided against it because he feared it would get damaged during a fight. Or so he had told himself.

As he leaves the town with his purchases he takes the time to stop and pull the ring out of the little pouch on his belt. In the palm of his hand, it looks like a simple gold band. He wonders what kinds of magic it holds, other than the tracking ones Morrigan spoke about. He carefully removes his left gauntlet and slips the ring into his finger.

He feels... nothing. Not even the faint humming of magic against his skin.

Either Morrigan did a good job concealing the power of the ring or she was joking when she spoke about its magic.

Only one way to find out, he thinks as he walks away from the city.

* * *

He heads to the road where they last saw each other just like they agreed. Even after a long absence, the place is comfortingly familiar. It's a true surprise for Fenris, who has preferred cities and crowded places over nature. In truth, he has avoided places like this since the jungles of Seheron...

After hours of walking he stops by a stream to refill his water skin. As he splashes some water on his face, he feels warmth spreading through his hands. No, just his left hand. It's not unpleasant, but the surprise almost makes him yank his gauntlet off and remove the ring. Instead he stands and holds out his hand in front of him. He starts walking, remembering Morrigan saving his life, the babe sleeping, conversations by the fire. He has made it this far on trust alone, what's a few more steps?

Soon he hears heavy footsteps approaching. He stops and waits, fingers flexing, ready to let the lyrium flare and attack if this is a trap...

Fenris hears movement behind him and turns around. He is not sure what he is expecting. A large bear staring at him curiously is not one of them. The bear blinks twice with familiar eyes and Fenris, despite years of carefully built defenses, cannot help but smile in relief and something else he cannot quite define.

"Hello, Morrigan."

* * *

Urthemiel is sleeping when they reach the camp. Fenris looks down at the child with concern.

"Is it safe to leave him on his own?" he asks as he looks over his shoulder. The bear is gone and in its place stands Morrigan.

"I have wards placed around the camp," she says as if it is the most natural thing in the world - and for Morrigan, it probably is. "'Tis was only until I was done hunting supper," "But I could remove them and leave you hunt instead. I assume you brought what I asked for?"

Fenris is already placing the bag by her tent. "Everything and more." He watches as Morrigan comes next to him and opens the bag to examine its contents. Her fingers run over the spine of one of the books. 

"Amazing," she mutters before looking up at Fenris. “I appreciate this. Thank you.”

He is not expecting overwhelming gratitude - and is in fact very relieved that is not the case - but is that a hint of sadness in her voice?

"What is this?" she says as she takes the other parcels out of the bag. She unwraps them to find small wheel of cheese, fruit and bread. Another parcel has blankets and a whetstone. He cannot help but wonder what magic was used to fit all that into such a small space. 

Morrigan's smirk is back and she shakes her head. "Of course she would send this. Looks like you won't have to go hunting after all."

After supper he surprises Morrigan by taking the Aggregio and a deck of cards from his pack - one of his many purchases from the market - and suggesting a game. She surprises him by accepting. 

He has told himself he would save the wine for a special occasion, but he is tired, his belly is full and it will be a long time before sleep comes. This is a good occasion as any. Not to mention a welcome distraction for his racing mind. He had thought being away from Morrigan would bring him back to this senses. He realizes now it only made him miss her. Before meeting her he always traveled alone, paying for help whenever he could steal enough coin but trusting no one at the end of the day. Morrigan may have offered to help him deal with Danarius in exchange for one favor, but that is not the only reason he returned. And then there is the dream he had in the Keep...

He tries not to dwell on it as he shuffles the cards.  
***

Fenris may be terrible at Wicked Grace, but as it turns out, Morrigan is even worse. They only manage three games before Morrigan throws her cards away in frustration. Fenris offers her the bottle of Aggregio and she shakes her head. More for him, he thinks. And he is almost done with it. Wine is so much better than ale anyway.

“Surely you did not spend all your evenings holed up in some tavern playing cards and drinking,” she tells him.

“I helped around the keep to earn some coin.”

“And I hope you didn’t share those harsh views of yours regarding mages. The Warden would not appreciate those.”

“There were some interesting arguments, but we rarely spoke. I did spend some time with someone else you might know. His name is Oghren.”

"Ah, the drunken dwarf," Morrigan says with a grimace. "He is still following the Warden?"

"He is a warden."

"Oh. I suppose their standards went even lower once the Blight was over."

"The wardens were good at their jobs," he says and then adds "Even the mages."

"My, what an unusual thing for you to say."

"We didn't become friends, but like I said, they were very good at what they did." He takes another swig of the wine before putting the cards away. He sees the parcel from Sigrun and takes it out.

"What is that?" Morrigan asks as he unwraps it.

"Something Sigrun gave me," he replies. 

"Oh? And who is this Sigrun and why did she give you a present?"

"One of the wardens. We were having these..." he looks from the book to Morrigan and finds himself staring into narrowed eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. She must have found you very interesting to have given you such a nice present."

"It means nothing more than friendship," he assures her.

Maybe is the wine talking, but she almost sounds... jealous. He shakes his head. The wine, it is the wine. And the ale he drank during supper. And why does he need to assure her that there is nothing between him and Sigrun?

He lies down on his bedroll, staring at the stars above. The book is indeed a nice present. Something simply given in the name of budding friendship. The last few weeks had been an almost welcome change. Used to moving constantly and trusting no one, it had been strange to find himself in a place where at least some people had shown interest in him not just as a warrior or someone to fear, but as someone they could invite for drinks or offer lessons. Even the Commander and Nathaniel had seen warmer to Fenris on his very last day.

Of course, the last people to treat Fenris as a person and not an object of value had paid a horrible price for it.

He keeps looking at the starts, trying to push the memory away but it won't go. Suddenly he starts dreading sleep and the nightmares it will bring. He turns to look at Morrigan.

"Do you want to hear how I escaped from Danarius?" he asks.


	14. Chapter 14

"I wish you didn't use those spells," he mutters. Morrigan looks at him and lowers her hands.

"And I wish you would reacting the same way towards all kinds of magic," she replies. "But fine, we will do it your way and not put wards around the camp. For now."

Fenris says nothing as they walk away from the camp, off to gather firewood and fill their water skins. The fact that Morrigan is not doing this one spell this feels like a very small victory.

_"Why didn't you run away sooner?"_

"The ritual that gave me my markings took away all memories of whoever I was before. Being a slave was all I knew. It never occurred to me I could be anything else until the Fog Warriors."

Morrigan had shaken her head. "I would have taken Danarius right there if I had been in your place."

But even as she had spoken, Fenris had noticed the change on her voice. Talk of slavery, of losing yourself and becoming someone else's possession had set her on edge. As Fenris had told his story she had only listened, asked a few questions. And then she had reminded him that in many ways, he was still a slave. A sour end to their evening, but there had been no regrets. Talking may had opened old wounds, but Fenris had also felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders. 

He and Morrigan will never agree on everything. But there is a common ground - love of freedom and a willingness to fight for it. Perhaps this had been the reason he had shared this story with her, something he had never told anyone about.

Later in the night he had heard a soft sob coming from the tent. So he isn't the only haunted by nightmares after all. It had been hard to resist getting up and check on her.

“Fenris,” she says suddenly. He is about to reply when he feels it. They both look down at the ground, the earth trembling beneath their feet. Then they look at each other. Morrigan’s eyes widen.

_"It could be worse.”_

“How?"

An ogre.

The creature is larger than any darkspawn he has ever seen, its impossibly huge arms pushing the thick trees out of its way in a display of amazing strength. Fenris has left his chest plate and gauntlets by the tent, but he has his sword and hopefully a fighting chance. Next to him, Morrigan has the beginnings of a spell glowing in her cupped hands. He can see the beads of sweat forming in her forehead as she prepares it. With a growl he runs forward, sword at the ready to buy her some time.

He is only a couple of feet away, blade raised, when the Ogre raises one arm and hits Fenris as if he was a rag doll. The impact sends him crashing against a nearby tree and knocks the wind out of him. Fenris struggles to get to his knees, gasping for air and doing his best to ignore the pain and the coppery tang of blood in his mouth as the ogre runs to him. A thick hand picks Fenris by the neck and raises him off the ground. Fenris takes the opportunity to phase his hands inside the ogre's arm. He may not be wearing his gauntlets, but he finds bone and his hands are strong enough to crush it. The creature throws its head back and roars, but doesn't let go. A fire ball hits the ogre from the behind and the thing turns and throws Fenris in the direction of the attack. He sees Morrigan move out of the way just in time before hitting the ground with a loud thud.

Then as Morrigan kneels next to Fenris, the ogre turns its head in the opposite direction, drawn by the sound of a child’s cries. 

They won’t make it on time.

Fenris holds out an arm, markings flaring. “Use it,” he calls out to Morrigan.

She grabs his arm and he can feel it, the magic drawing power from the Lyrium in his body. The pain is worse than any of his current injuries but he grits his teeth and watches. Morrigan’s nails dig into his flesh just as she raises her free arm. Suddenly the ogre stops moving. Invisible forces lift the creature a few feet over the ground. Morrigan lets go and Fenris watches her stand up, both hands raised in front of her now. She squeezes and the ogre roars one last time before she spreads her hands and the ogre is torn apart in a bloody explosion.

Morrigan is running back towards the camp right away, Fenris right behind her. He lets out a sigh of relief when they make it back to the tent and she picks up the sobbing but otherwise unharmed child. He sits - or rather, lets himself fall - by the tent and takes a deep breath. Everything hurts and he is struggling to remain conscious. But it doesn't matter. They are safe and nothing else matters.

* * *

She helps him tend his wounds afterwards. She is lot more gentle now than that other time, except when she orders him to remain seated and allow his wounds to heal properly. After setting the wards around the camp - without saying "I told you so" even once! - she goes to the nearby stream to bathe and then brings him water when she returns to clean himself as best as he can. He can feel her gaze on his as he removes the rag that was once his shirt and cleans the blood off his chest. He is grateful for the one spare shirt he carries in his pack.

He turns to look at her. "What?"

"Oh nothing. Now do finish cleaning up. You look ghastly covered in dirt and blood."

She sits by Urthemiel's side, combing her hair as the child plays. From time to time she glances in his direction and he knows he is not imagining the look in her eyes - relaxed and softer. A growing lack of dislike towards Fenris. coming from Morrigan, it's almost overwhelming.

There are many reasons to ignore her attention. Even if he has has wondered what it would be like to give him, to accept what she has to offer. Dangerous thoughts.

He falls asleep earlier than usual and dreams of long fingers touching his cheek with something akin to tenderness.

Or at least, he thinks it might be a dream.

* * *

They avoid the subject during the next days. They move south, where Morrigan says a clan should be passing in the upcoming weeks.

No clans can be seen in the area. They do get a lot of rain one night. Just as Fenris is finding shelter under a large tree, Morrigan calls out to him.

"Don't be foolish! Get in here."

It takes Fenris a few seconds to process this before running towards the tent and slipping inside without a word. They eat apples and cheese and watch the rain outside. Urthemiel crawls away from her mother's side, intrigued at the sight of Fenris inside. He grabs a hold of Fenris' hand and he allows it, watching the babe examining the lyrium. Fenris draws the line at letting him suck the fingers however. Sometimes he allows his markings to glow just to see Urthemiel's reaction. It is an odd game, but it proves an excellent distraction from the proximity to Morrigan. When the child starts to fall asleep, she gathers him in her arms and tells Fenris to stay on that side of the tent.

He watches her lie down on her bedroll, the child in her arms and her back to him. He moves as far as he can from her and focuses on watching the rain until sleep claims him.

Even from a distance, she feels so close and he cannot help stealing a glance in her direction. Her hair, free of its many jewels and combs, spills all over her neck and the bedroll. Fenris can see a little bit of her neck exposed through her hair. He wants to reach out and touch that small area. The thought both fascinates and scares him.

He hopes for no more rain the upcoming days.


	15. Chapter 15

There is no more rain for the next few days. They keep a respectable distance from each other and talk only about the most harmless things. He sharpens his sword, polishes his armor and traces the letters Sigrun had been teaching on the dirt with a long stick. Morrigan looks after the child, prepares potions and reads the books Fenris brought. Sometimes he steals at glance at her and quickly looks away when she raises her head. From time to time he hears her scoff and groan in frustration. It's probably just about the books.

Then one night after supper, she grabs a pillow and a blanket and improvises a very small tent right next to hers, where she puts Urthemiel when he falls asleep. Fenris watches with a raised eyebrow but says nothing. He looks away and focuses on his stick, on the letters he is tracing on the earth, attempting to whisper the words he puts together. After a few minutes of this he has to stop. He can feel her standing behind him. At what point did she move?

"Yes?" he asks without looking up. When she replies her voice is unnaturally sweet.

“I was just thinking about how cold my tent is.”

Without turning he picks up a log and tosses it in the fire. He hears a sight behind him.

“I see being around the Wardens has done wonders for your sense of humor,” she says. There is no harshness in her voice however.

“I am not always serious.” 

She sits next to him, their arms almost touching. "Aren't you? In that case, deflecting questions with humor is unbecoming of you."

"I didn't hear a question. Just a statement."

"And yet I am sure you understood. Perhaps I underestimated your intelligence."

"Perhaps I'm just not interested," he say and he almost believes it.

"Judging by the way you look at me, I find that very hard to believe."

He stands up and walks away from the fire, away from Morrigan. She follows, keeping a few steps between them.

"Know that I am not asking anything of you that you are not willing to give," she tells him. "Same as I. And I trust you enough to offer this. 'Tis that simple."

It is never simple. He is an escaped slave who has known only suffering at the hands of mages. She is an apostate with many secrets. Who claims to trust him.

Who healed his wounds when she could have made a run for it first. A woman who clearly trusts no one but herself.

Does he trust her?

He came back to her after all. And then opened up to her the way he has never done with anyone.

"Of course, if you truly don't want this, then I shall trouble you no more." A pause, then she speaks again. "Believe me, it would be so much better if you are indeed refusing me."

But he does want this, doesn't he? 

Before she can continue talking he turns around and steps forward, raising one hand to touch her cheek. A bare hand against the soft skin of her cheek. He has stopped wearing his gauntlets and chest piece at night. She smiles at him.

"Shall I consider this a yes?" she asks.

His hand moves to the back of her neck and pulls her closer for a kiss.

* * *

Her lips are soft and pliant against his own. Her hands have slipped under his shirt, short fingernails running up and down his back. His own hands move to her waist, pulling her even closer. She breaks their kiss and presses her lips against his neck and is almost enough to make his knees buckle. It feels as if takes forever to reach the tent, remove their clothing and lie down in the blankets. He resists the need to consume her as fast as he can, taking the time to explore her body with his hands and lips. Her skin is pale as moonlight and soft as silk. It is no long until she hands and voice ask for more and he finds himself pressing into her as she gasps into his mouth.

It is unlike anything he could have possibly dreamed. It has never been like this - hot and hungry and oh so wonderful. There is some trouble along the way - one time he moves too fast and bumps his nose on her forehead, on another her feet tangles on a bag strap - but in the end none of it matters. Nothing matters except this one moment and their bodies joined and the easy rhythm they find, not as slow as before, but in no hurry either. Until their need grows too much and she encourages him to increase his pace. He grows bolder, mouth and hands testing places, learning what brings her the most pleasure. He is rewarded with a sudden cry, her nails digging into the flesh of her shoulders and her body clamping around him. It's enough to make him lose control for good. Burying his face in the crook of her shoulder he lets himself go, something akin to a growl stifled by her skin, muscles tensing, lyrium glowing white for the briefest of seconds as he finds release in her arms. 

Fenris is not sure how long they lie together in silence afterwards, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. At some point Morrigan pulls away and moves to the tent's entrance to look outside and check on her sleeping child. Her hair falls down her back, impossibly dark and shiny. It is rare to see it in such state - free and devoid of any ornaments.

Then she is back to his side and he closes his eyes, not ready to discuss what happened just yet. Maybe he can feign sleep...

"I always wondered how far they went," she says. He opens his eyes and follows her gaze to one of her fingers, running along the markings on his chest, almost touching him. Morrigan, who hates touching and being touched just as much as he does. And yet there she is. And he makes no effort to stop her just yet.

"Did you now?" he says with amusement.

"Oh yes. I have to admit they are intriguing. Did they cause you any more pain?"

She doesn't have to explain what she means. He shakes her head.

"It was not an unpleasant sensation." He is honestly not used to this. Pain is a familiar sensation, one he can relate to. To feel something other than that is almost unnatural.

He watches her follow the lines with her fingers and gaze. When she tries to go over he gently reaches for her wrist. She seems taken aback by this gesture but says nothing, choosing instead to lie next to him, watching in silence. It strikes Fenris that she has chosen to focus on his markings to avoid thinking about what just happened. As much as he'd rather avoid the subject himself, he is not sure he wants to answer more questions about the lyrium running through his body. He might as well get it over with.

"What happens now?" he asks. She props herself up on one elbow to look at him better.

"Like I said before, nothing that we do not want to happen. I shall continue my research and when the time comes, I will provide you with help to kill Danarius like I promised. We chose our paths long ago and do not have to abandon them." She then shifts, bracing herself above him, long black hair falling around them like a curtain. "Although, if this were to happen again... I wouldn't refuse."

He smiles as raises his head for a kiss.

"I could live with that."


	16. Chapter 16

The next day they move camp. Morrigan guides them to the lake again. Fenris smiles as he remembers the last time they were there. 

At first sights, things have barely changed between them. They settle camp, she works on her books and Fenris attempts to train. He has to stop when Urthemiel decides to crawl near him and examine his feet. Morrigan sights and takes the child back to her side. Fenris decides to sit on a rock and practice his letters instead.

"You are doing it wrong," she says after a few minutes of this.

"What?"

She closes the book and moves to her side, picking another stick on her way. Next to his writing attempts, she traces three of the letters and points out where he was getting them wrong.

“I will be teaching my son his letters in a few years. I can practice with you now.”

“I supposed I could do this… for Urthemiel of course.”

“Of course.”

Sometime later the child in question starts crying. 

"I'll take him to the lake," Morrigan says as she picks him up. "Don't stop practicing," she adds with a smile.

Fenris can hear them in the distance as he tries to focus on his letters. He almost considers dropping it and joining them but there's still a part of him weary of getting too close. Interesting thing to worry about, considering the events of last night.

Eventually he stops and looks around the camp. Surely there is something that needs to be done. His gaze falls on the last book Morrigan was reading. Just some history book according to the Commander. He cannot help picking it up and flipping through the pages, looking for the dragons again. He didn't get a chance to examine them the first time he had the book in his hands. This time he focuses on the letters when he finds the illustration. They are rather small and some of them are too long for him, but with effort he makes out one word.

Dumat.

He closes his eyes and remembers elegant dinner parties, pouring glass over and over for already drunk Magisters. Sometimes they were drunk enough to forget about Fenris, to see him as just one more piece of furniture. It is then that their conversations are the most interesting, filled with intrigue, politics and sometime a piece of ancient history. This is how Fenris first hears the names of the Old Gods. He thought he had forgotten all about it, but he remembers now. The Old Gods, the dragons, the archdemons. Dumat. Zazikel. Toth. Andoral. Razikale. Lusacan. Urthemiel. A family name, she had said.

He lets the book fall to the ground just as Morrigan steps back into the camp, the child in her arms.

* * *

They knew it wouldn't last. They never expected to end like this. Months of carefully built trust crack under the pressure of this piece of knowledge. How could he be so foolish? How can the baby he has watched for so long be a demon?

Not a demon, Morrigan says. And I owe you no explanation for my actions.

Fenris raises his voice. She doesn't, but somehow manages to make herself be heard loud and clear. Then it's over - with his markings ablaze and one of her hands on his throat. She could kill him without blinking and Fenris could easily return the favor. She is not harmless and he should have known better than to trust her. And yet he cannot bring herself to do it. He takes a deep breath, allows the lyrium to cool down. After what feels like hours, she steps back, arms crossed and ice in her eyes.

He gathers his things as she watches. She has placed Urthemiel in the tent and the child cries, clearly upset about the unfamiliar shouting. He is but a child, Morrigan says again. With an important destiny ahead of him. Once he is done packing Fenris looks again at the child. He sees what he has always seen - an ordinary child with his mother's dark hair and unfamiliar hazel eyes. His face is red and fat tears slip down his cheeks and is almost enough to make Fenris regret every single word. But he is still an escaped slave who has seen too much. How can he stay when he'll always wonder about the child's heritage?

Morrigan's hands light up when Fenris kneels by the child. He moves slowly, taking the wolf carving out of his pouch and placing it on Urthemiel's chubby hands. An apology of sorts. He gets up just as Morrigan rushes forward to pick up her son.

"Just go," she says, just the slightest tremble in the chilliness of her voice. Fenris turns and walks away.

It's a moonless night and he has to make his way slowly, relying on his ears and touch. Until something small and bright rushes past him and floats just a few inches away. He looks back but the camp is too far away for him to see nothing but darkness. He looks at the orb again. The Commander had done a similar spell back at the mines. He resumes his walking, bright white light ahead of him.

The orb vanishes in a wisp of smoke as soon as he reaches the main road.

***

He travels north for several days until he finds the familiar crossroad. A few more hours of travel and he reaches the city of Amaranthine. The first thing he does upon arriving is check the old house. It is still abandoned and Fenris finds his way in once again, leaving all his possessions except for his sword stashed away in a broken cabinet. Then he heads for the Keep.

This time he is taken to the Warden Commander's sitting room immediately. She is sitting with a warden Fenris has never seen before - a dark haired man with a prominent moustache. They both stand up as Fenris steps in.

"Is this..." the man with the moustache asks.

"Yes," the Commanders says. "Will you excuse us, Stroud?"

The man nods and leaves the room, giving Fenris a cold look on his way out. Before he can ask what is going on, the Commander walks to the door and closes it. Her calm demeanor turns into concern when she addresses him.

“Are you alright? Where are Morrigan and the child?"

“They are fine,” Fenris says. “We… she… It doesn’t matter. I did what she asked of me and we parted ways. I just wanted to let you know I will be staying in the city for the time being and wanted to put myself at your disposal.”

She seems to relax a little at this. “Are you saying you’ll be joining our ranks after all?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I’d rather keep my independence if you will.”

“Fair enough." She says, then she walks over to her desk and takes a piece of paper from it. "I am actually glad to see you again. About a week after you left there was an incident. We got attacked as we were leaving the city. A group of bounty hunters asking us about returning stolen property."

She offers the piece of paper to Fenris and he takes it. His eyes are drawn immediatly to the seal. He would recognize it anywhere.

"Danarius," he growls.

"That's the name the leader gave us," the Commander says. "We kept him alive to interrogate him. Then he tried to stab the nearest warden, who happened to be Velanna. She didn't take it kindly."

Fenris moves away, bracing himself against the back of a chair. He should have known they would find him sooner or later.

The Commander walks again to her desk and picks an envelope. "When I ordered replacements for the books I got for Morrigan I asked my friend in Tevinter if she'd ever heard of a escaped slave with lyrium markings."

"And what did she say?"

"That this Danarius really wants you back. He must be paying a lot of coin to do so. Those bounty hunters were good."

And now the wardens are paying for it.

"Commander, if you wish me to go," he starts but she holds out a hand. 

"There is no need for that. He'll probably send more and I'd rather deal with them here. The Queen and Prince Consort have a lot to worry about to give them Tevinter bounty hunters all over Ferelden. And we could use your blade around here if you're interested."

She sounds almost friendly, but he knows this only about keeping her people safe. He finds himself not caring. There are people here that actually enjoy his company. There is work to be had. It will easier to build up what he started here than start over somewhere else.

But above all, he is not sure he wants to give up his last connection to Morrigan just yet.

* * *

She asks him to come back tomorrow and she will have some work for him. 

As he heads for the gates he almost crashes into a Warden coming in the opposite direction. He gives her a grunt and an apology and starts walking away, but she calls out after him.

“I know you!” she says. Fenris turns and looks at her. She does look familiar.

“You are that elf,” she continues. “We helped you kill those slavers that time, back in Kirkwall?”

Of course, the young mage from Kirkwall, Hawke’s friend.

“You are a Warden now,” he says, taking in the uniform. She looks away, her lips a thin line. 

“I guess,” she says after a moment. “Better than being dead, they say.” She looks at him. “Are you a Warden too?”

“No, I just… help around.”

“That’s nice. “

She sounds distracted and Fenris takes this as a sign to end the conversation.

“I guess we’ll see each other around then.”

“Probably.”

As they go their separate ways, Fenris looks over his shoulder and sees the Commander has come out and is talking to the other mage. She sees Fenris and waves goodbye. Her smile is warm and she seems relaxed. Fenris wonders how long it will last.


	17. Chapter 17

The mage's name is Bethany - Marian Hawke's sister and the Commander's cousin.

He learns this from Oghren, who upon learning of Fenris' return, shows up at the abandoned house with some wine and cards. Knowing better this time, Fenris takes it slow with the drinking as they catch up on recent events. Fenris learns the man with the moustache is called Stroud and was sent from Orlais with half a dozen new Wardens. There are more new recruits as well and a lot of time is spent training and preparing them for the Deep Roads.

When Fenris goes to the Keep as agreed (and thankfully sober this time), he learns this is what the Commander wants from him - a couple of days a week training some of the new wardens. It is awkward at first - Fenris has never trained anyone in his life and the recruits find him intimidating to say the least. But they are all eager to learn and after a few days he doesn't feel the overwhelming need to scowl at them all the time. He turns out to be a pretty decent teacher once he gets used to it.

It is not the only kind of work he gets in Amaranthine.

One morning as he is purchasing some food at the market a woman approaches him. She introduces herself a Delilah, Nathaniel’s sister, before asking him if he would be interested in a bit of work - escorting her merchant husband and several crates worth of goods to Denerim. She goes on saying that Nathaniel has put on a good word with them and that he’ll be paid handsomely. 

And this is how Fenris finds himself in a cart on the way to Denerim two days later, along with Albert, Delilah’s husband, and two other merchants. Albert is an easygoing man who treats Fenris with respect when the others either glare at him or ignore him. Fenris wonders how much of Albert's kindness is due to Nathaniel’s influence. 

Only one group of bandits is foolish enough to try to take them on. There's eight of them against Fenris - a very unfair fight for the bandits. By the time the dust has settled four bandits are death and the others are running for their lives. The two merchants are a lot nicer after that, go figure.

* * *

After so much time spent between the forests of Ferelden and the Amaranthine area, Denerim feels larger than it already is. Some areas still bear the marks of the darkspawn attack but like Amaranthine and the Keep, the city has rebuilt itself. Albert leads the group into the inn he usually stays in. As soon as they step inside, they are greeted by loud cheers and raised glasses. A large crowd is gathered near the bar, surrounding something - or someone - Fenris cannot see from the entrance.

"What's the occasion, Susan?" Albert asks the barmaid as the men manage to squeeze into the one free table.

"The King is here," she says. "First drinks are on the house." As soon as the words have left her lips, there are more cheers and raised glasses. The men order their drinks and watch the crowd at the bar. Eventually people move enough for them to have a good look. Fenris sees a tall, broad shouldered man with short, light brown hair. If it wasn't for the four guards standing close by, one could easily mistake him for a noble having a drink.

The barmaid brings them ale and a large pork pie. Fenris focuses on his food and drink and only half listens to the merchants. Apparently sneaking into taverns is something the King does regularly. 

Suddenly conversation stops and Fenris looks up just in time to see the King approach their table. The three merchants start shifting their chairs to stand up but the King raises a hand.

"Please don't," he says. "Susan tells me you come from Amaranthine. I just wanted to hear how the city is doing."

"It's doing great," Albert says, still flustered. "The Warden Commander takes good care of everything."

The men raise their glasses to the Commander's health.

The King seems to like this. "And how is she these days?"

Albert seems lost at words just for a second. "Oh, I don't have the fortune to see her everyday, but Fenris here is good friends with the wardens."

Fenris can count with one hand the wardens he considers almost friends, but he refrains himself from saying so as the King turns his attention towards him. The distance between them is short enough for Fenris to have a better look at his features - strong and handsome, fit for a king. And his eyes are a familiar shade of hazel.

"How is the Commander?" the King asks.

"She is doing well."

"Good to hear. Next time you see her, tell her I said hello, alright?"

Eventually the guard comes closer and the King must say goodbye. Fenris is beyond grateful he doesn't have to look into those eyes anymore.

***

Two days later they are on their way back to Amaranthine. Their journey goes without incident and Fenris is paid a good sum once they return. As Albert says goodbye to him, Delilah comes to greet her husband, a babe asleep in her arms. He wonders how Urthemiel is doing. His mother will be teaching him his letters in a few years. He wonders if they miss him. Probably not. He wishes he could say the same.

When he goes home for the night, he pries loose a floorboard in his room. He has very few valuables - his weapon and armor, some coin, a couple of books. But there is only one thing he hides with this much care.

He retrieves a small pouch from under the floor and pulls it open, staring at the ring inside. Does she even remember he kept this? He removes his left gauntlet and slides the ring on his finger. Nothing. Either the magic is gone or Morrigan doesn't want to be found. Maybe both.

He starts to remove it, but then decides against it. He goes to bed staring and falls asleep staring at it. The next morning he keeps it on even as he puts on his gauntlets. Months ago, he would have blamed it on magic, a spell designed to drive him mad. He is not sure what to believe anymore.

* * *

He goes to the market to buy something to eat and runs into the Warden Commander and Aitor. She asks him about his stay at Denerim as they buy fruit from the same stall.

"I met the king." He watches her carefully. Other than the briefest of pauses, she barely reacts at this. "He sends his regards." 

"Prince Consort," she suddenly says.

"Sorry?"

"His official title is Prince Consort."

"When I met him, people addressed him as the King."

"He couldn't care less how you address him." She pays for her purchase and waits for him to do the same before beginning to walk away, Fenris right behind her. "I just call him Alistair."

"You know each other very well then."

"Before becoming prince consort, he was a grey warden. For the longest time we were the only two wardens in Ferelden. After... after Ostagar."

It made sense now. "And Morrigan traveled with you as well."

"Yes, Aitor too." She stops to scratch the dog behind the ears.

Fenris looks around. They are standing by a large tree, the stairs leading up to the chantry just a few feet away. There is no one close enough to hear their conversation. Still, his voice is barely a whisper when he speaks next.

"Is he the father?"

She looks at him, her expression unchanged and for a moment he expects her to deny everything. Instead she nods.

Fenris looks away. He can see some children playing in the distance. Children that soon will be called home by the mothers. 

"Does he even care about the child?" He asks.

"Of course. But Morrigan made it very clear that she would raise him on her own"

"And he just accepted that?"

"He had to. I didn't like it either, but it seemed a small price to pay at the time."

He turns to look at her. "Price?"

The Commander frowns. "You... you don't know the whole story about the child."

"You mean besides the fact that he has the soul of an old god or so Morrigan claims?"

She sights. "Let's go somewhere private."

* * *

They go the house, where the Commanders tells him of the Grey Wardens. Of the price that must be paid to stop the Blight. And of the alternative Morrigan gave them.

"Morrigan saved our lives" she concludes. "The child was all she asked for in return."

"That is a terrible way to put it."

"Perhaps. But you don't spend over a year traveling with someone and trusting them with your life without learning to accept their choices."

Unless you decide not to. In which case you both go your sepparate ways and you regret it for the rest of your life.

"You have a point," Fenris says, looking down, thinking of the ring on his finger. "And how much does the k... the Prince Consort know about Morrigan's whereabouts?"

"Nothing. And I ask you to keep it quiet as well."

"But we're talking about his child."

"And you expect him to do what? Abandon everything and go in search of Morrigan? Because he might try that." She shakes her head. "As cruel as it sounds, he has a kingdom to help rule. And Morrigan had her reasons to raise this child on her own."

"And do you trust her?"

"Of course," she says and Fenris hates her for it. 

Because he wishes it had been that easy for him.


	18. Chapter 18

Fenris decides he is done dwelling on his mistake. He made a choice and there is no going back. 

He keeps himself busy. After helping Nathaniel’s brother in law other merchants come with similar offers. As the months pass, he earns a bit of a reputation and people other than the Wardens start treating him with something akin to respect. It both intrigues and scares him. Whenever he is not working, he is at the inn, playing cards with Oghren or practicing his reading with Sigrun. When she heads for the Deep Roads, Bethany takes her place. Fenris objects at first, but eventually warms up to the idea. It is hard to dislike Bethany. She is obviously wary of her power and as he gets to know her better, he finds her strong enough to resist the lure of blood magic. He cannot help but remember their first encounter and briefly wonder how different things would have been had they not parted ways in such bad terms. 

Some days are better than others. Some nights as well. He doesn't dream about the redhead girl again but he finds himself trying to remember as much as he can from the dream. It's the closest thing he has to a memory of his past now. He even tries Oghren's brew a couple of times to see if that helps. All he gets is a couple of very bad hangovers and Oghren's increasing respect in return.

He continues to help with training at the Keep as well. And sometimes he stops by the chantry board and attempts to practice reading the posted notices by himself. The first time he is finally able to read one from beginning to end fills him with indescribable joy. The note itself is nothing important: someone has lost a small dog. But he is so excited that he spends his morning looking for the animal. He finds it curled up in a ditch, sleeping with not a care in the world. Returning the little thing to it grateful owner earns Fenris two sovereigns and a deep sense of accomplishment. He treasures it, this one achievement. Never in his many years as a slave could he see himself where he is now, the many things he has managed to do. Not that he'll ever forget he is still on the run.

Danarius. Despite being constantly alert, there are no more bounty hunters lurking in the shadows or attacking Fenris' acquaintances. He knows it's only a matter of time before Danarius makes his move, but the wait it's sometimes too much. Those are the rare moments where he seriously consider Morrigan's suggestion of just finding Danarius and killing him. As if it was that easy.

As if anything regarding Morrigan and her thoughts and plans was ever easy.

***

Other than the Commander, Sigrun, Bethany and Oghren, no one ever visits the house. So when Fenris hears a faint knock of the door his first instinct is to reach for his sword. Then he hears the muffled “Hello?” and he frowns. Even though the voice is familiar, he is not willing to take any chances. In the end he compromises by holding the sword with his right hand and reaching for the doorknob with his left. 

He opens the door and finds himself facing Sorcha, the girl from the inn. 

“Hello,” she says with a nervous smile. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I know you are friends with the Wardens and…” she looks over her shoulder and even though there is no one else there her voices drops. “The Commander is at the inn. She is alone and she… I think something happened to her.”

Fenris is not sure what is he supposed to do. The fact that she came all the way here tells him there are no Wardens in Amaranthine at the moment.

He sighs. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Even as he leaves the house he tries to remember when he last spoke to the Commander: three months ago before she and Nathaniel had gone to Denerim, invited by Queen Anora to report on Amaranthine. Nathaniel had returned one month later, alone. Apparently she had decided to stay a little longer. 

He follows Sorcha into the inn and at first nothing seems out of place: the Commander is indeed sitting alone in a corner, nursing a mug of ale. She doesn’t seem to be drunk though - slightly crestfallen maybe, but not drunk. A plate of stew lies untouched to her right and there’s another one at her feet, next to Aitor. The dog has not touched his food either and is staring sadly at his mistress. Now that is unusual.

He reaches the table, pulls out a chair and has not finished making himself comfortable when she speaks.

“She is gone.”

He knows exactly what she means. It doesn’t stop him from asking.

“What do you mean gone?” He tries to keep any emotion from creeping into his voice.

"I mean she found herself a working Eluvian and used it as a portal to... somewhere. Somewhere beyond the fade."

“What about Urthemiel?”

“Who?”

“Her son.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Really? She named him…” She laughs in amusement. “Oh, Morrigan.” Her expression then turns serious. “He wasn’t with her. She would only tell me he was safe.”

“If she said so, then he is,” Fenris replies.“What else did she say?”

“She said change was coming to the world and that she needed to prepare him for what is to come and that I should be preparing as well. She said that people need change if they wanted to be free. She said many confusing things.” She pauses as Sorcha comes to their table and places a glass of wine in front of Fenris. Once they are alone again, she continues. “What kind of change? It would be easier to be prepared if the advice wasn’t as cryptic. “

Fenris sips his wine in silence, taking in the news.

“I’m sorry I have to give you the news like this. I know you two were close.”

“Commander…”

“Margery,” she says, and then adds. “You are not one of my men. You might as well use my name.”

“Alright… Margery. I appreciate your concern, but Morrigan and I… it’s complicated.”

She chuckles, then sighs. “It’s always complicated. That’s what makes it so much fun.” She looks at her glass. “I asked her to take me with her. She said no of course. And now I’m happy she said so. She is my friend and I will help her if she asks me to, but I didn’t want to go with her. I just wanted to go… somewhere.”

“Leave? But you are the Warden Commander. You cannot leave.”

“Why not? There are many here that could take over my duties: Nathaniel, Stroud, Sigrun…” She looks at him. “I've done my part. I killed the Archdemon and stopped the Architect. The Blight is not our biggest threat anymore. My time has passed. Maybe I should follow Morrigan’s advice and consider change.”

She smiles as she says this. Then she reaches across the table to grab Fenris’ glass, finishing his wine in one gulp. Margery seems to be feeling better now that she has figured out what to do. Fenris on the other hand…

"I'm not ready to go back to the Keep," she says suddenly. "Let's do something."

Which is why they find each other in the old house, sparring in the middle of an empty room. It's the first time Fenris has really paid attention to her skill with a sword. Someone clearly taught her the basics, but she leaves herself open too often and her thrusts are not as strong as they could be. Fenris points out the flaws in her technique, teaches her how to move correctly. She catches up fast enough and even manages to get to Fenris a couple of times - scratches and shallow cuts that she heals almost right away. Other than that she uses no magic just as he doesn't employ the lyrium in his body. Aitor sits by the doorway, watching them with sleepy eyes.

She and the mabari leave by dawn, yawning loudly. Fenris himself is drained and exhausted as he crashes on the pile of blankets and pillows in his bed. He is grateful for it, for being too tired to think. 

***

They don’t bring the subject again. But Fenris has the feeling the conversation is not over yet. He is not going to be the one to bring it up again though. They still meet once a week to train and talk. He eventually tells her about Tevinter and Danarius - never as much as he shared with Morrigan though. She tells him about becoming Warden Commander and about the Architect.They avoid speaking about Morrigan, though Fenris suspects the reason Margery spends so much time with is because he is the last link she has to her old friend. He can relate to that.

A month after their conversation at the inn, Margery receives a letter from Orzammar. A week later she leaves the keep, heading an expedition. Nothing out of the ordinary, she says. Just looking into a missing group of dwarves on the Deep Roads. Stroud, Velanna and Sigrun go with her. He wonders if the situation in Orzammar is truly that dire or if she just wants to stay busy. Maybe she even wants to be away from some of the new recruits - former Templars. Fenris finds them quite nice. One of them even starts teaching him some of the skills they use when fighting mages. 

When a particularly enthusiastic training session ends with Fenris chest plate dented, he takes it to Master Wade for repairs. The man is beyond excited at the prospect and when Fenris returns the next day to retrieve his armor he has no choice to listen patiently as Wade complains about being doomed to ordinary work. Although Fenris' has to admit the man's craftsmanship is excellent. There is even a promise to create something even better should Fenris ever come across some good material.

The expedition returns three months later, thinner, paler and muttering about harvesters and golems. There are also some comments about wanting a pet bronto, mostly from Sigrun.

They all go for drinks to the Inn to celebrate the party's return. No one wants to talk about what they saw in that expedition, not yet anyway. So instead they talk about the things Fenris knows are considered "safe talk" for the Wardens, the ones they talk about when they want to avoid more serious conversations: the repairs to the Keep, food, Oghren's brew. As Fenris sips his wine and contributes a sentence here and there, he can feel the Commander's eyes on him. It's only a matter of time before they talk about it.


	19. Chapter 19

It happens two weeks later. After a night of cards hearrives to the house to find the Commander waiting for him. She sits on the one table with all four legs intact, her feet swinging back and forth. There’s a folded sheet of paper in her hand.

“I think I know how to find Morrigan,” she says in lieu of greeting. "Or at least, where to continue her research."

“I see,” he says, trying to sound casual and uninterested. He moves around the room, removing his gauntlets and waiting for her to continue.

She sighs. “You are not going to like this.”

“And yet you came to talk to me about it. You might as well continue.”

“Eluvians were used as portals. In this case, she used it to reach a place beyond Thedas. Beyond the Fade.”

“You already mentioned that.” The gauntlets done, he continues with his chest plate.

“I had a chance to look at some of her research. I think I can use a piece of the Eluvian in a scrying ritual to track another working one and then...”

“Stop,” Fenris says, the chest plate joining the gauntlets. “She left and she wished to be left alone. Why can't you accept that."

She jumps off the table. “Do you really believe that? She left clues. She wants to be found or at the very least, wants us to know what she is getting ready for.”

“If she has done such a thing, then it’s only for you.” Even as he says these things he has to wonder. Morrigan successfully avoided her old friend for years. Is she truly hoping to be found?

"And I owe to her to find out what she meant."

_She said that people need change if they wanted to be free._

Fine, he will play along. “So what do you suggest? Arlathan? There is nothing left.”

“I know, but there is somewhere else. Somewhere one could find the information and resources.” She stares at the letter in her hand, then at her boots. As if she is ashamed of what she is about to say. Suddenly he knows the answer even before hearing from her. His voice is barely a whisper when he says the word.

“Tevinter.”

Just saying the word fills him with dread. He walks to the window, presses his head against the cool glass. Margery continues.

“My friends, the ones that are living in Tevinter? They went there to do some research. One of them has been called back and I offered to take her place.”

“In Tevinter.”

"Yes."

"You want to go to Tevinter." And of course, there is a reason she is telling him this. "And you expect me to come with you."

"No," she says and he turns to look at her. "I have to do this. I would never you force to go there. Not after what you’ve been through. Should you decide to come with me however, I wouldn't refuse."

"I am sure Danarius would love that. His most valuable possession returning home."

"He wouldn't get the chance," she says and at the scoff he gives she smiles. "You'd have me. And Wynne and Shale and probably Zevran and if I can convince him to come with us."

He starts pacing around the room, thinking. A lifetime ago, Morrigan made a similar promise to him. As foolish as it may have seen, Fenris had wanted to believe it. And now another mage offers this to him, reciting names of companions he doesn't know. Her optimism is admirable if misguided. Does she truly believe she can go against a powerful magister?

Of course. She is the Hero of Ferelden. You don't get to slay an Archdemon without skill and a good group of people behind you.

Fenris continues to pace and the room seems to be getting smaller. Even if he were to refuse, even if he made him promise she won't try anything against Danarius, he knows Danarius will go after her. She took down his bounty hunters and there have been no others. No, she cannot go and end up fighting Fenris' battles. 

And then there is the voice on the back of his mind, whispering.

_Find this Danarius and kill him, break the chains once and for all._

He stops and looks her.

"When are we leaving?"


	20. Chapter 20

Margery explains that she has things to prepare before they can leave. She is also waiting for his friend Zevran to arrive. Fenris thinks it’s a bit too much until one of his reading lessons, where he sees a familiar necklace around Bethany's neck. He recognizes it as something he has seen the Commander wear from time to time. After years of seeing the women of Tevinter clad in rich and ornamental jewels, someone who wears a single piece stands out more in Fenris' mind.

Or a woman who wears none at all sometimes. He tries not to think about Morrigan and focuses on the necklace. The Warden Commander is probably giving her most precious things away. This is more than just a trip to help some friends.

She doesn’t intent to return.

Fenris never gets the chance to ask. The next time they meet Zevran has arrived and she brings him to the house to introduce them. As it turns out, Zevran is an elf with an Antivan accent that makes it sound as if he's trying to seduce you with anything he says. Fenris finds him irritating at best. According to Margery, he is one of Thedas' most dangerous assassins, a former Antivan Crow.

A mage and an assassin. He doesn't know what Wynne and Shale are like - probably mages as well. And these are going to be the ones on his side when he meets Danarius again. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Aitor barks loudly. Fenris reaches out to scratch the back of his head. And the dog. You cannot forget the dog.

* * *

They leave Amaranthine two weeks after Zevran's arrival. Fenris finds it harder than he expected to keep his plans a secret, especially around people like Sigrun, Bethany and Oghren. He wishes he could ask Oghren about Zevran - apparently they know each other. But Zevran's presence is another secret as well and not even Fenris knows where the assassin has been hiding for two weeks. He also wishes he could give the three of them a proper goodbye. He makes do by buying them drinks the one night the three of them are in the city. As he watches them drink and be merry, Fenris tells himself this is not going to be a final goodbye. Whatever happens, they will see each other again somehow. It's a comforting thought.

The day of the departure he takes one last look at the abandoned house he has called home for so long before walking away for good. It may be broken, dusty and haunted by a love story gone wrong, but it was somewhere to go back after a long day, as safe as he could be.

On his way to the docks he sees Nathaniel and Velanna heading for the market. He waves and they nod. He continues his way until he hears Velanna shouting his name.

He turns to see Velanna running towards him. She wastes no time with pleasantries. “You are leaving. You and the Commander. Oh, don't give me that look. She told only Nathaniel.”

"And you."

"I can be discreet. She said you'd be going with her."

“Yes,” he replies, and then adds. “We are not… I mean…”

“Oh, I know that. She is forever faithful to a bard in Orlais.” As she speaks, her hand slips into a small pouch. “I just thought I would give you this.”

She takes something from the pouch and hands it over. Fenris examines it with curiosity. An amulet of some kind. Upon close examination he sees some familiar carving in the surface. He cannot help but smile.

"Fen'Harel."

"I thought you would appreciate it. It has an enchantment to give you some protection against fire. Should be useful if the Commander decides to try her hand at fire spells again."

"That's... useful," he says and then adds. "I didn't mean to sound..."

"I know. Just," her voice lowers. "Keep an eye on her. And always remember who you are."

He only nods in agreement and watches her walk away. Remember who you are. Quite the advice for someone with no memory of his past.

***

He has a cabin.

Fenris has done his share of traveling by ship. Always as a stowaway. Even as he steps into the room Zevran guides him to, Fenris half expects someone to come and demand he leaves. The cabin itself is small and has only a bed, a cabinet and a basin. And nothing is dusty or broken for a change. Should he take this as a good sign?

Still, habit makes him stay inside and avoid anyone long after the ship sets sail. It takes Margery knocking on his door to make him come out to eat. 

***

The ship docks briefly on Kirkwall. Zevran goes to the city in search of information. He invites the others to come along but Fenris sees no purpose on visiting again and Margery seems uninterested. That is until Fenris finds her on the deck, pretending to read a book while Aitor sleeps by her side.

She finally puts the book away and looks at the buildings longingly. “You met Bethany’s sister once, right?”

“Yes. I don't think she liked me very much.”

“Bethany tells me she bought back the family home. The Amells were once one of the most powerful families of Kirkwall. Looks like she is on her way to make it happen again.”

He remembers Morrigan telling him about Margery being taken into the Circle - a child of six taken from her bed as her mother watched in horror.

“Would you like to… visit?”

She looks at him and for a moment he thinks she’s going to say yes, but then shakes her head. “Maybe some other time.”

Zevran returns with news of tensions rising between the city and the stranded Qunari. Apparently he also ran into an old acquaintance and the mention of her name makes Margery blush. Fenris really doesn't want to know the details.

* * *

The trip is blissfully uneventful. When he is not practicing his moves as best as he can in his small cabin, he goes to the deck and enjoys the breeze. 

Sometimes the others will join him. Margery practices her Tevene with him - thankfully she has a good grasp of the language (of course she would learn it in the Circle) even if her accent leaves something to be desired. Zevran seems to know a little as well - mostly words like Crīso and Futuō, which cause Margery to shake her head and Fenris to compliment him on his pronunciation, even if that is not the kind of language he is expected to use around the Magisters.

"The Magisters are no fun then."

All mirth is gone from Fenris' voice. "They are not 'fun'. You should never forget that."

"My apologies, my friend," Zevran replies with a bow. There is no mockery in his voice now. 

"Let's change the subject," Margery says. "Fenris, I've been meaning to give you something."

He follows her to her cabin. Hers is slightly larger and Fenris can see a large pillow next to the bed, Aitor rushes past him and curls up on top of it.

Margery opens a large chest at the floor of the bed and gestures to a parcel at the top of some robes. Fenris kneels by the chest and unwraps the parcel to find a set of armor - a perfect replica of the one he is wearing right now. The material feels different. Lighter but still strong. He runs his fingers over the clasps on a gauntlet.

"A gift from Master Wade," Margery explains. "He asked me if I had found any interesting materials. I brought some things from Amgarrak and he insisted on doing this."

Fenris stands up, the armor in his arms. He sees himself clad in it, facing his former master at last. For a brief moment this plan doesn't feel like a truly bad idea after all.

"Do you really think we can do it?" he asks. "Kill Danarius I mean."

She smiles at him. "What's a Tevinter magister compared to an Archdemon?"

***

But once they get closer to the coast of Minrathous, she doesn’t seem as confident. As they stand all together on deck, Fenris sees a flicker of fear in her eyes, in the way she grips, her staff - the first time ever he has seen her carry one. And all Fenris can think is You should be afraid.

She may the Hero of Ferelden and the most famous living Warden, but in Tevinter she is just another mage. One that has never used blood magic. How easy it would be for her to see the appeal of it…

Stop. 

Shouldn’t he feel the same way? He told himself he wouldn’t return, that he would face Danarius somewhere where the Magister wouldn’t have the advantage. And yet here he is, emboldened by years on the run and the support of many. 

They are all fools for even trying, but it is too late to go back. Time to face the tiger.


	21. Chapter 21

On addition to the armor, Margery gives him a long black cloak. Not as comfortable as the one Morrigan gave him - and certainly not as valued - but it is longer and conceals pretty much all of him. Danarius will find out sooner or later, but whatever little time they can buy will be valuable.

Fenris does his best to ignore the long forgotten sounds and smells of Minrathous as they step into a carriage. Margery's friends are staying in a small villa just outside the city. Fenris recognizes the name of the owner. Magister Lucretia had inherited very few of her family's magical talents. She had however inherited her father's eye for business and a considerable fortune. Fenris had seen her once at a party, where Danarius had made some rather nasty comments behind her back. That gave her a very slight advantage in Fenris' mind. Apparently Magister Lucretia and Wynne had become close during her stay.

Wynne is another mage, an elderly woman with a gentle demeanor. It’s surprisingly easy to smile and be polite to her. He is wondering where the other mage is when something he mistook at first for a bizarre statue steps forward and greets both Margery and Zevran before eyeing Fenris.

"And I assume it is the escaped slave the Warden has been asking us about?" it says to him.

“... A golem,” Fenris say after what feels like a very long pause.

“An elf,” Shale replies before looking at Margery. “It doesn’t seem very smart. But it is shiny.”

Fenris turns to Margery as well. "You have a golem."

"Hopefully not for long," she says as if this is just something she sees every day. "We can discuss it over breakfast."

* * *

There are no slaves or even servants. Wynne had preferred the solitude for her studies and had only accepted one servant from Lucretia - a young girl named Alma who the day before had left to look after a sick sister.

Breakfast is a peaceful affair. Or as peaceful as it can be with such a group. Everyone but Shale sits at the large oak table and eats bread, honey and fruit. Fenris peels an orange with his gauntlets and closes his eyes, savoring the scent. Oh yes, the one thing he missed. While they eat he learns Shale's story - a female dwarf who willingly became a golem and lost her memories. The story is almost too familiar.

Once everyone is done eating Wynne fills them in regarding the latest news.

"Danarius left the city two days ago," she tells them. "To inspect some properties on Asariel."

"Very good timing," Zevran says. "A little too good."

"We should be alert and hope that his absence buys us some time," Margery adds.

The rest of the morning is spent planning. Zevran asks Fenris plenty of questions regarding the layout of Danarius' state, the number of guards and the magical defenses. Fenris cannot help a growl as he recalls the latter.

"If he returns sooner than expected, there will be plenty of demons and abominations to deal with."

"Demons and abominations can be squashed," Shale says. "Like birds. Dreadful little creatures."

"Why can't all spirits be as charming as the one living inside of Wynne?" Zevran mutters.

Fenris' eyes widen.

"What?"

***

"She is an abomination!"

"Would you mind speaking a bit louder? I don't think they heard you in Par Vollen."

Without waiting for a reply, Fenris had grabbed his cloak and ran out of the house. Margery had followed, probably thinking she could sooth him. What a foolish notion!

"You are just as bad as Morrigan," he says. "Keeping demons and abominations safe."

"Urthemiel is just a baby and Wynne's spirit is benign one."

"There is no such thing as a benign spirit! The sooner you learn that the safer you will be. Oh who am I kidding? All mages are the same! You would grasp for power and not care about who or what you destroy in the process."

Her eyes narrow with anger and he is ready for this. He braces himself for the magical pain that is sure to come, letting his markings flare in anticipation.

He is not sure what kind of attack he was expecting, but certainly he wasn't expecting just her fist.

Pain blossoms on the right side of his face. He staggers back, his hand to his cheek and staring at the mage. She is holding her right hand against her chest, hissing.

"Alistair warned me about doing something like that," she says. Her hands glow briefly with blue light and she wiggles his fingers, pain gone from her expression. She allows her hands to glow once again and Fenris feels the pain on his face lessening.

Neither one apologizes. After a fairly long silence, Margery looks over her shoulder at the villa.

"Bethany told me about a friend of hers studying in Tevinter. I wrote to him to see if we could have one more ally against Danarius. I'm supposed to meet him today. We should get going."

"Why should I go with you?"

"Because I am not letting you in the same room with Wynne just yet. She might be less forgiving of your words."

***

Bethany's friend is a young mage named Feynriel. He is all nerves as she guides them into a sitting room. Fenris keeps his cloak on all the time.

"We cannot talk for long," he says. "It was hard enough to get everyone out."

"I appreciate it," Margery says. "But I don't want to get you in any trouble. I can just leave."

"It's not like that. I really needed to talk to you. I started looking into that man, Danarius..." he shudders. "I've seen many horrible things since I came to Tevinter. Danarius may easily be one of the worst. I don't know how other people can handle living here."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have come in the first place," Fenris mutters. Feynriel looks at him.

"It's not as if I had a choice!"

"Feynriel is a somniari." Margery explains. "It's not easy to find a capable teacher anywhere outside Tevinter."

"Forgive me if I don't find that comforting," Fenris says. Across them, Feynriel gasps and Fenris realizes too late one of his hands peaks out of his cloak.

"It's you," the boy says. "The one Danarius is waiting for."

A bitter reply dies on Fenris' lips. "Waiting for? He knows I'm coming?"

Feynriel nods. "He left his apprentice behind. Hadriana? I saw what they were planning."

His next words cause Fenris and Margery to look at each and stand up.

"We need to get back," she says.

***

Feynriel comes with them, strength in numbers and Fenris is too concerned about Hadriana to even care that yet another mage is offering his help.

Not that is any help at all. By the time they make it back to the villa they find ten dead bodies – including the servant girl, Alma, apparently paid off by Danarius. Thankfully Wynne seems only slightly shaken and Shale looks unchanged. But at the sight of Aitor’s broken and bleeding body Margery falls to her knees, shaking as she cradles the dying dog in her arms. Fenris looks away, concentrates on Shale.

"You took them all?"

"All but one," Shale said. "I figured it might want to interrogate. If not, I'll be happy to crush its head." She turns to where Margery is kneeling. "The mabari hound crushed its leg with one bite. The Warden should be proud."

"I am," Margery whispers, gently petting her dog. Aitor licks her hand and moans softly. Without turning around she speaks. "Go talk to your friend, Fenris."

***

Zevran is holding guard over the one remaining mage. It takes Fenris a few seconds to recognize Hadriana in this small, frightened and bruised woman. He remembers her standing over him, laughing as she tormented him. Her eyes widen when he approaches, sword in hand.

"You do not want me dead, elf," she says and Fenris scoffs.

"Is that so? The only person I long to kill more is Danarius. And what a strike it would be to deprive him of his apprentice."

"I know you," she says. "I know what you want. And I can give it to you. All I ask is that you spare my life."

"How do we know you are not lying?" Zevran asks, an edge in his voice Fenris has never heard before. So this is the Antivan Crow.

"You don't," Hadriana says, then looks at Fenris. "But I know dear Fenris won't take that chance."

Fenris crosses his arms over his chest. “What could you possibly offer me?”

“Your sister.”

_Red hair in pigtails. Faded green dress. Running._

He turns to Zevran, who shrugs. Fenris turns back to Hadriana and gives her a nod. She starts talking. She gives him everything he hoped for and more.

And then he kills her.

* * *

Margery is still kneeling on the same place, absently stroking Aitor. The mabari is not even moving anymore.

"Did you get anything out of her?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Good. We will talk tomorrow then."

After a pause, Fenris begins. "I am sorry about..."

"I know. I do not wish to speak of it."

He has never heard her like this, barely concealed rage under a chilly voice. she might not be saying it, but he knows a part of her blames him for this. Once again, others have paid for his actions. It can't happen again.

* * *

It takes a long time for them to clean the house and gather the bodies in the basement, where Wynne transforms into rats for Zevran to easily dispose of somewhere outside. All but Aitor, whom Margery wraps lovingly in a cotton sheet. A hero's companion and he shall have a hero's funeral tomorrow.

She stays with him even as everyone else goes to their room. It takes all of Fenris' skill to sneak out around the house when he is sure everyone else has fallen asleep. As he reaches the back door, Shale calls out to him.

"I see the Shiny Elf has decided to go," she says simply. He crosses his arms over his chest.

"I suppose you're here to stop me."

"It would be a good idea. The Magister's attack was quite hard on us. If the Shiny Elf decides to go alone, it will surely die."

Fenris closes his eyes. "I can't let it go. Hadriana said Danarius had information on my sister. Even if she was lying..." He knows it wasn't a lie. He remembers the little girl from his dreams. "I need to know."

"Why not wait for the Warden then?"

"Because the Warden hates me right now."

He expects a longer argument, but Shale just shrugs.

"Alright then. Do try not to die. I'm sure the Warden would hate it even more."

"I will do my best."


	22. Chapter 22

It is disturbing how easily he finds his way back to Danarius' mansion, how he still remembers every nook and cranny of the house. With Hadriana dead it is only a matter of time before Danarius returns. He needs to find whatever information he can tonight. Even after all this years the servants rarely wander this part of the house at night. Still, Fenris sticks to the shadows, heading towards the studio. If there is any information he hopes to find it there.

He walks by his former master’s bedroom doors and freezes. Memories of everything he went through behind those doors rush at him like a bucket of freezing cold water. The doors open and he raises his blade, ready to strike. But it is not Danarius who faces him but a elven woman.

She is short and slim, with long red hair and green eyes that widen at the sight of Fenris. But when she speaks, that is not the name she uses.

“Leto…”

And then he remembers. Varania. His big sister always looking out for him. Always by his side. He steps forward, one hand reaching out to her. He remembers her being taller than him a lifetime ago. Now he is the tall one and her hand fits comfortably into his.

Fenris opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes. Warmth spreads quickly through his body, a clammy kind of warmth that makes him fall to his knees as the world spins around him. He tries to stand and manages to take a few steps before his legs give in. When he tries to reach for the nearest object to avoid falling – a large marble statue – it falls along with him, shattering in large pieces.

He tries a third time and his lyrium flares without him doing anything. It has been so long since anyone has done this; use his marking to bring him to his knees, to cause a pain so powerful he swears he can feel fire running through his veins, reaching every part of him, filling his lungs until he can no longer breathe. He hears Vanaria gasps, see her cover her mouth with her hands and knows this wasn’t her doing.

The last thing he hears before darkness finally takes him is a voice he had hoped to never hear again and that even now manages to send shivers down his spine. 

"Predictable as always, my pet."

* * *

Where there was warmth, now there is cold. It is soothing, yet strong enough to bring him back from his slumber. As he opens his eyes, he sees Danarius standing just a few feet away from him. Fenris stands up slowly, trying to remain calm as he looks around the room. Two guards stand a safe distance away. Varania sits on a chair in a corner, staring at her lap.

And the Warden stands a few steps away. Fenris knows, without looking, that the others are not far behind. She holds a hand in front of her, the remains of a spell glowing on her fingertips.

“Feeling better, Fenris?” she says without looking at him. He tries to speak but the only thing coming out of his mouth is a growl. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says as he clears his throat and begins to stand on shaky legs.

"Quite an accomplishment, Fenris," Danarius says, eyes on the woman in from of him. "The Hero of Ferelden. I must say I am impressed, my pet."

Fenris tries to see her through his former master's eyes: worn armor, messy braid, bags under her eyes. She's fidgeting, nervously moving a piece of shattered marble with her boot. Still, Danarius has to know not to underestimate her. She has gathered armies and stopped a Blight before it truly started. His former master's next words confirm it.

"I have heard so many things about you." He takes a step towards her, smooth and confident in his power, in the guards nearby, in the many others he probably has posted outside. "Perhaps we can come to an agreement." When she says nothing he continues. "I am a man of power and influence."

And those words are enough to make Fenris' heart stop. He remembers their last conversation, the ice in her voice as she cradled Aitor in her arms. They had come to respect each other over the years, but they are not friends and they might never be.

"If you have heard so much of me," she says. "Then you know what happened the last time I had to deal with Tevinter slavers."

Danarius' smile wavers a little, but does not fade away. "Oh yes. It was the talk of the city for quite some time."

She nods and Fenris remembers the fight at the Silverite Mine. The Commander's sign.

"I can only imagine what the city will make of this," she says

Her right foot moves fast, kicking the piece of marble towards Danarius' face. Even from a distance, Fenris can hear a crunching sound as it connects with the nose, too damn quick and surprising for Danarius or any of his men to stop it.

There is no time to revel in it. Danarius lifts his staff and shades emerge from the marble floor. 

“Move, Varania!” he roars, blood pouring down his face. Varania does nothing. Enraged, he raises his staff once again only to be knocked to the ground by one of Margery’s spells. With a growl, he gets on his feet and rushes for the door, leaving the creatures to deal with them.

Margery turns and looks at Fenris. 

"Get the bastard!"

Fenris nods and runs after Danarius, picking up his sword and slicing through a shade on his way to the door, fueled by adrenaline and sheer determination. He sees Zevran stabbing a guard and Shale holding another one by the neck.

They are not the only ones. As he rushes out of the room, Fenris almost trips on several bodies. He cannot help a grin as he imagines the look on Danarius’ face when realized he had no one to rely on for protection.

He hears the scream and feels the heat just as he runs around the corner. Danarius lies on the floor, screaming in pain as fire spreads over his legs. From the corner of his eye Fenris spies something moving away but he doesn't care. All his attention is now on the man in front of him.

Danarius doesn’t beg for Mercy as Fenris reaches out, lifting him by his neck, but his eyes widen with fear and anguish. Has Fenris really been on the run all this years from this pathetic old man? Danarius shakes as Fenris looks at him, gasps for breath as Fenris squeezes tighter. It happens too fast – the sharp edges of the gauntlet digging into flesh, phasing deeper and then crushing flesh and bone. But it is oh so satisfying.

Until Fenris lets go of the body and looks down, his mind racing.

Danarius is dead.

He falls to his knees.

He hears Margery's voice, feels her hand on his shoulder. There is another hand under his arm, urging him to stand up. Even as they guide him away, Fenris looks over his shoulder, one last glance at what’s left of his former master.

He feels... everything. And nothing. Are the chains truly broken?

_You were right, Morrigan. I am still a slave._

***

He has no memory of heading back to the villa, of walking into the bedroom and lying down to rest.

He wakes up to the feeling of a hand on his forehead, a figure standing over him in the dark. He can sense it in the air, the recent use of healing magic.

"Morrigan?" he whispers. The figure shakes her head.

"Rest now," Wynne says and walks towards the door, where another figure waits.

"Will he be alright?" the second figure asks. Varania.

Fenris cannot hear Wynne's response. But Varania gives him one last look before following Wynne out of the room

***

The next time he awakes there's a shadow by the window, too tall to be Varania or Wynne. Margery.

She sits next to him and touches his forehead before leaning forward, close enough to kiss. Close enough for Fenris to see the gold in her eyes. Not the Warden then. She steps back just as Fenris raises a hand and is gone before he can call out to her.


	23. Chapter 23

Fenris remembers one particular night, many years ago. Danarius had ordered him to join him in bed - nothing out of the ordinary in this request. As he had sat down on the edge of the bed he had caught a glimpse of himself in one of the wall mirrors - drained and resigned, with just the smallest hint of fear. At that time it had not occurred to him that he could have been anywhere but there. Then Danarius had approached and the mirror and the reflection had been soon forgotten.

They had taken the ship to Seheron the next day.

The look on his eyes he saw it once again in Danarius' mansion. In Varania's eyes.

She is sitting by his side when he awakes; hands on her lap, avoiding his gaze, just like in the mansion. Before the battle. Varania. Who was willing to help Danarius get her own brother back. Who stood aside and refused to help Danarius afterwards when it became about killing said brother.

“Why?” he asks. 

“I am sorry, Leto,” she says. “I had no choice.”

“Do not call me that,” he growls. Leto was the little boy who played in the courtyard with his sister. He is no longer that boy.

“He would have made his apprentice,” she continues and that is enough.

“You sold me to become one of _them_?”

Before he can continue she looks at him, anger in her gaze.

“You have no idea what Mother and I went through! After what you did to set us free! Freedom was no boon.”

He frowns at her words. “What are you talking about?”

***

He cannot hate her. Her actions almost doomed him but hadn't he known despair in his time? Hatred has taken its toll on Fenris and he finds himself too weary to even wish Varania any harm.

***

Margery sits behind the large oak desk, looking down at a large stack of papers when Fenris walks in and takes a seat across from her. She looks up, nods and looks back at her papers. Shale stands by. There is a small urn on the desk and from time Margery reaches out to touch it. Not just touch it, scratch it. Fenris sights. 

Finally he speaks. “Are you alright?”

She looks at him. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile is sad, but sincere. “I will be. Eventually. What about you?”

“I will be. Eventually.”

She nods and goes back to her papers. Fenris is about to get up when she speaks.

"Your sister seems nice."

Of course. The woman does have a soft spot for fellow mages. "What will happen to her?"

"I asked her the same question. She isn't sure yet." She then gestures at the papers spread all over the desk. "She has time. I still have a lot of research to do. I can give her coin to start over or I can invite her to come with me, whichever she prefers. Wynne has offered to take her to the Circle in Ferelden as well."

"How long until you finish your research?"

“It will be some time. Then, I might travel some more. I could go to Weisshaupt and see where the Wardens have their base. I’ve also heard Orlais is lovely this time of the year.” Her smile widens. "What about you?"

"I don't know yet."

"You are welcome to come with us," she says. "I will be looking into the Eluvians, try to understand Morrigan's messages. It would be great to have you."

"I agree," Shale says from her place by the fire. "I must admit I've taken a liking to the shiny elf."

Fenris looks at Shale, remembering her story, how horrified he was at thought of someone giving up themselves to something like that. It never occurred to him that his own story would be just like that.

"Varania said that I asked for these." He holds out his arms. "That I competed for them. I don't... I don't remember."

"Those things happens," Shale says.

Fenris looks at her. "How do you deal with it? Knowing that you willingly gave up everything that made you... yourself?"

There is a long pause after which Shale replies. "Violence. And shiny things."

For the first time in what feels like forever, Fenris laughs.

Zevran and Wynne arrive then with news. Fenris barely listens to the details of the mysterious fire in Danarius' mansion and the many slaves who somehow disappeared – and who are now underground and on their way to freedom courtesy of Zevran. He learns that young Feynriel gave them a hand with Danarius' guards as well, causing many to kill each other just before Margery and the others made it to the mansion. He is both grateful and weary at the thought of such powers coming to his aid but says nothing.

It is not until Margery kneels by the fireplace and starts fiddling with the tinderbox that he remembers an overheard conversation long ago.

Margery is no good with fire spells.

He thinks of Danarius lying on the floor, screaming in pain, his legs on fire. The figure he had seen from the corner of his eye. Even if Margery had been skilled enough, she had been in the room with the shades, too far to do this. It had all happened so fast…

Perhaps he is over thinking this?

* * *

He wakes up to the sound of her voice, calling his name. He dresses up quickly, putting only the barest of essentials in the pouches of his belt and leaving a note on his desk. Just a simple goodbye.

He finds her standing by a fountain in the gardens. He wonders how she made it back. How did she manage to find a working Eluvian in Tevinter?

He realizes it doesn’t matter. 

She turns to face him, arms crossed and lips in a tight line. 

“You are here,” he says to her.

"Do not flatter yourself. I had to make sure certain... doorways here were closed."

“And which of those involved attacking Danarius?”

She smiles a little. “I promised I would help you when you decided to confront your former master, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did. Thank you.”

Morrigan looks like she’s about to say something else but then looks away. 

"How is Urthemiel?”

he asks and she smiles.

"He is somewhere safe. And he seens to have grown attached to that figure you gave him.”

Fenris smiles and for a moment, things are almost alright between them, just like old times. But they both know it is just appearances.

“The last time we spoke,” he says. “I am sorry. I had no right to take my anger on you like that.”

She shrugs. “You have your reasons not to trust mages.”

“I should have trusted you,” he replies. 

“No you shouldn’t have.” She looks at him sadly. 

Fenris is not sure he will like the answers, but he has to ask.

“The information you asked me to acquire for you… did you really need it?”

“It was useful, but not entirely necessary.”

“So you sent me away on purpose.”

“I did not expect you to return. But you had aided me and I had come to… enjoy your company. And I hate it when others are denied their freedom. If you did go to my friend, I hoped she’d take you in and aid you. If this Danarius had decided to chase you to Ferelden, you’d have the strength and resources of the Wardens to help you take him down. ”

“And then I came back to you.”

“When I sensed your return, I couldn’t believe it at first. I knew I couldn’t continue to delay my plans and yet I could not find an excuse this time. And so I hurt you when you gave me the opportunity, hoping you would go away for good this time.”

And it had almost worked. 

“You gave Margery enough clues to find you.”

“She has a part to play. She will figure it out soon enough.”

“What will happen to you? To Urthemiel?”

"There are so many things I must learn," she says. "I must be prepared for what is to come.”

“I could help you,” he says without thinking. She looks at him, clearly not expecting those words either.

“Danarius is dead and you must learn to be truly free now. I am sure Margery would welcome your assistance. Or you could return to Amaranthine to your warden friends. You have choices now.”

“You do not wish me to come with you then.”

She shakes her head. “I cannot abandon my path.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He takes a step forward. “I am offering my help.”

“You have helped me and owe me no favors.”

“This isn’t about favors anymore. I am a free man, choosing to ask. That’s all.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” she says.

“Do you?” he takes another step. “If you don’t want me to go with you, just say so and I promise I shall go away.”

He stands in front of her, waiting for her answer. She avoids his gaze, looking at his hands instead. She touches his left gauntlet and Fenris knows he can sense it, her ring in his finger.

“I suppose there are many things Urthemiel could learn from a warrior such as yourself."

"I could do that." He tries to keep all amusement out of his voice. "For Urthemiel."

She looks at him. “’Tis a dangerous path. And it will be a long time before either one of us can see our old friends again. But if it is truly your choice, then I welcome you.”

“It is,” he assures her as he steps forward. Her lips are just as soft as remembers. “And if you allow it, I will walk this path gladly at your side,” he whispers against her mouth.

“Then let us be off," she says and her smile is a little warmer.

He carefully laces his fingers with hers and follows her out of the garden and into the night.


End file.
